


Horse Camp is Not Punk Rock

by orphan_account



Category: AFI
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Davey is such a weenie, Fluff, Horseback Riding, Humor, Jade is bizarrely suave, M/M, highschool fic, very slow build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t that Davey hated horses. He just didn’t want to spend two months out of his summer riding them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Curfew is not Punk Rock

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly, stupid high school fic about horses and Davey’s never ending punk crisis, because as a rider and a punk fan, these things are constant sources of inspiration and I suppose, personal angst. I love these characters and still crank out a one shot about them very occasionally.

It wasn’t that Davey _hated_ horses. He just didn’t want to spend two months out of his summer _riding_ them. In retrospect, he really shouldn’t have been out with that spray paint, because the spray paint incident was what made his mother decide she couldn’t deal with his presence for another day, and this decision on her part was what landed him in the mini van, driving up to the Sierra Nevadas for two months of horse camp. 

In short, the horses were his own damn fault, because he was a dumbass. Wilting in the heat of the backseat, slumped low against the window with his headphones on, Davey contemplated his own stupidity. Three days ago, Davey and his friend Adam acquired a bottle of forest green spray paint, and thought it would be a good idea to sneak out after curfew and tag the steps of the Pasadena Civic Center with dollar signs. In Davey’s mind three nights ago, this was a daring and punk rock testament to his own oppression : Being a kid in the suburbs forced to conform to the standards of private school and his parents expectations. Adam agreed that the Civic Center was the perfect symbol of said oppression, seeing as it was a rich yuppie congregation area and smack dab in the middle of Pasadena. 

It seemed like a flawless plan. Unfortunately for Davey and Adam, they never even got around to their daring and punk rock tagging job, because the cops caught them about six blocks above the Civic Center in Old Town, and they were charged with possession of spray paint and breaking curfew. It was the least punk rock thing Davey could think of, really. (Except for horse camp.) Not only did they fail miserably, but they got in trouble with the cops, which was nothing in comparison to getting in trouble with Davey’s mom, who must have been an FBI agent in a past life or something, because she was the last person on earth whose bad side you wanted to encounter. She used a whip for a living and controlled thousand pound animals between her legs, after all. 

Davey’s mom was a horse trainer. 

Therefore, her perfect solution to every behavioral problem Davey exhibited involved horses. She thought that horseback riding built character and cooperation skills, seeing as the rider had to both maintain control over a powerful beast, but also respect the strength of the animal. It was about working together instead of domination. His mom _actually_ used this kind of language. She got all misty eyed when she talked about it. 

Incidentally, Davey wasn’t surprised when he woke up the morning following his arrest in Old Town Pasadena to find his mother standing stoic and pissed off in the kitchen, a flat-lipped expression of disappointment heavy on her mouth as she told him that tomorrow they’d be driving to a horse back riding camp near Lake Sequoia. 

_It’ll build character, David_ , she argued, meeting his whines with an unshakable sternness. _You need to learn that you can’t live life thinking of no one but yourself. You have to learn discipline._

Davey had desperately attempted to weasel and apologize his way out of this one, but he knew deep down that there was no shaking his mother on a decision she made, especially when it involved horses. He was just going to accept that while Adam might be grounded for a few days but otherwise let off the hook, he was being shipped to the dirty ass mountains so he could sit on a flea bitten mare and learn motherfucking _discipline_ , all because he thought that he was punk rock. 

Davey huffed, thunking his head on the window of the mini-van’s backseat, wishing that the air conditioning worked better in this car. His oversized shirt was sticking to him in places, and the clinging material of his black jeans might as well have been a second skin. He dared not whine, though, fearing another lecture from his mom who had taken off work off today so she could drive him to Lake Sequoia. 

“You know, you might actually have fun. Think of this as an adventure instead of a punishment,” She offered, trying to meet Davey’s eyes in the rearview. Davey grunted in response, not over the fact that the family border collie, Bailey, was sitting shotgun instead of him. His mother’s justification on this seating arrangement for the five hour drive had been, _Bailey is better behaved than you are. Bailey wasn’t out after curfew._ And Davey hadn’t really been able to argue with that, so backseat it was. 

The dog kept on turning around to look at him sympathetically, pink tongue lolling out. He patted her head, huffing a sigh again. “An adventure would be going to Sound and Fury with Adam, mom. Not going to _camp_.” Davey hated how immature he sounded, but the curse words he wanted to throw in would only make her more angry, so he bit them back. 

“Well, Adam will stay an idiot and you will gain some life experience, how about that? Anyway, you might make friends. I bet there will be some equestrian girls there, that’s something to look forward to,” She tried, smiling faintly into the rearview. Her eyes were obscured by sunglasses, so Davey couldn’t make out her expression in full, which caused him to assume it was complacent, taking triumph in his mortification. 

“Yeah, that’s because horseback riding is a _girl’s_ sport. It’s not even a _sport!_ And I’m not gonna make friends because I’m gonna be the oldest kid there. Plus, there would be girls at Sound and Fury, too.” He complained, crossing his skinny arms across his chest and grimacing. He didn’t tell his mom that Adam’s parents didn’t let him go to Sound and Fury either, didn’t tell her that he didn’t have enough money saved for even the cheapest day of the festival, didn’t tell her he wasn’t even sure he gave a shit about girls, especially the ones who’d be going to Sound and Fury, because they were scary. He wanted her to think that she was an awful person, denying him something wildly important that he would hold against her for the rest of his life. 

“Oh, well, isn’t that a shame. All those girls with no one but Adam to look at, and you stuck all the way up in the mountains. Must be a shame to have parents who’ll send you to an expensive sleep away camp as a punishment instead of making you stay home grounded...” His mom trailed off, about two seconds away from launching into her very bitter, very self-righteous _horse back riding is not only a female dominated sport, and it more certainly is a sport to begin with, David! If only you knew how physically taxing and blah blah blah_ speech when Davey chose to zone out, turning up the volume on his iPod. Bailey looked back at him sadly, her honey gold eyes bright and telling as they said, _you got yourself into this one, kid._

And Davey sighed, raking a hand through his hair and thinking _yup. I guess I did._


	2. Nicknames are Not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely went to a summer camp where all the counselors had dumb nicknames. I also had my first real gay crush at this camp. I didn’t get as lucky as Davey gets in this story, but that’s not for awhile. If anyone cares to know, the stupid chapter titles were stolen from this MC Lars song, “Hot Topic is Not Punk Rock.”

Fifteen minutes after Davey’s mom dropped him off, signed him in, and kissed him goodbye on the forehead before making him _promise_ he’d take this seriously and try to gain some discipline, Davey was seated in his cabin. It wasn’t much to look at, just a rickety wooden building with five naked bunk beds crowded inside of it, smelly and hot and cramped with the presence of other boys, some of which were campers, others camp counselors. 

He’d been there all of five minutes before got told off. This burly but kind of short dude who was around seventeen or eighteen had tapped Davey on the shoulder as he was unpacking, telling him in a way too chipper voice, “Sorry buddy, but you gotta lose those bracelets. We’re a jewelry free camp, don’t want anything catching on the saddle when you’re riding.” According to the lanyard around his neck, Burly Dude’s name was Mike. 

“I’m not on a horse yet, Mike,” Davey said, yanking his sleeping bag out of its drawstring bag and spreading it across the mattress, which was made from a sticky-looking plastic. Davey cringed as he felt how hard it was, how much heat it had already trapped in the un-airconditioned cabins. 

“Camp rule. You gotta follow camp rules no matter where you are, whether you’re around the horses or sleeping. What’s your name?” Mike asked, narrowing his eyes at Davey, who shrunk a little. “Davey,” he answered. He liked to pretend he was tough and punk and whatever, but truth of the matter was that Davey was skinny as hell, wore nail polish, and had never been in a fight in his life. He went to _private_ school, for fucks sake. He was from _Pasadena_. 

“Alright Davey, I’ll be checking up on you later to see if you took them off. This is your first warning,” Mike told him firmly, all the while using this fake, lilting tone just _made_ for camp counselors. Regardless, If this Mike guy wanted to start shit with him, Davey was as good as dead, so he just nodded, muttering a sulky “sorry,” as he started removing his bracelets. He wore about fifteen of those stupid black plastic Hot Topic bands around his wrists for irony, coupled with an oversized metal bathtub-style chain on one side. This one jangled slightly as he took it off, tossing it to the bottom of his backpack as Mike stalked off, most likely to scold the other campers. 

Davey observed the kids in his cabin, all of which were loud and rambunctious and jostling each other around like they’d already known each other for years and were old pals or something. He supposed that this was because most of them were seasoned horse campers, and this wasn’t their first summer, or because they were all around the age of eleven and it was easy to make friends when you were that age. As predicted, he was by far the oldest kid in the cabin, fourteen while everyone else seemed no older than twelve, save for the counselors who seemed between sixteen and twenty. 

Davey sighed, flopping down on his creaky, rock-hard bottom bunk. Sweat had formed in beads on his brow, and he wondered if he did something bad enough if they’d kick him out before the two months was up. If he was lucky, his mom wouldn’t be notified of his expulsion and he could live as a drifter for the remainder of the summer, hitch hiking to the beach and living in a van full of Aus Rotten loving crust-punks who would finally understand him for who he was. Davey was jolted out of his Crust Punk fantasy by a round, pink face dropping over the edge of his bed, framed by a spiky crown of blonde hair. It was a kid, a kid who looked about ten years old and resembled a dandylion. 

“Hi, I’m Hunter,” the kid said brightly, offering his hand, which Davey reluctantly shook. It was sweaty and hot, like the kid had just been running around, which he very well might have been judging by his flushed complexion. “Who’re you?” 

“Uh, Davey,” he answered slowly, wiping his now damp hand on his sleeping bag with mild disgust. 

“Have you been here before?” Hunter asked, his face disappearing as he hauled himself to a sitting position before hopping off the top bunk, landing with an awkward trip. He recovered himself, sitting down on the edge of Davey’s bunk and looking at him with wide eyes. His white-blonde hair stuck up in every which way, and he was grinning crookedly through a mouthful of braces. Davey smiled back in spite of himself. 

“Nope, this is my first summer. I got in trouble so my mom sent me to camp, but I don’t actually like horses or riding or anything,” Davey disclaimed, making sure that even though this kid was prepubescent and had no concept of punk or cred or anything being cool or not, he still knew that Davey was too hardcore for this place. Hunter seemed unfazed, cocking his head. 

“I thought you were new. Hadn’t seen you before...you kind of stand out,” he laughed then, a _hope you’re not offended laugh_ that Davey was used to and kind of lived for, seeing as it was a common response to offhand comments about his nails or hair or whatever else people were referring to. He shrugged, running a hand through his overgrown black bangs. 

“Yeah, first summer,” He responded. Hunter nodded knowingly. 

“This is my eighth year,” Hunter said like it was no big deal, shrugging. Davey’s eyes widened, as he pictured this Hunter as a two year old sitting on a pony. He looked like Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, all tiny and blonde and all of ten years old. “Eight years?! How old are you?” Davey scoffed, trying and failing to not sound patronizing. 

“Fourteen,” Hunter said defensively, crossing his arms. “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet,” he added. He looked like he was about to stick his tongue out at Davey, which would have just proved his point. Davey nodded skeptically, not at all believing that this Hunter kid was a day older than twelve. 

“Okay, whatever dude,” Davey snickered, shaking his head. The counselors had made their way to the middle of the room, Mike and two other guys, one with impressive acne, the other with impressive biceps. Davey squinted, trying to make out their name tags. 

“Alright! Cabin 9B, listen up,” Acne dude yelled, holding his hands to his mouth and shouting through them so his voice carried. “I’m Stick, and this is Mike-O and Hershey. We’re gonna be your counselors for the next two weeks, so if everyone would take a seat and shut up, we’re gonna go over the rules. If you follow them, we’ll be happy, and if we’re happy you’re happy, and everyone’s gonna have an awesome two months, right?!” He yelled way too enthusiastically. The younger kids in the cabin roared back a just as enthusiastic “Right!” to which Hunter and Davey exchanged an exasperated glance. Davey didn’t know about Calvin and Hobbes kid here, but he was way, way too cool for this shit. 

Stick started listing rules, from curfew to lights out to contraband. Davey didn’t even try to pay attention, figuring he took himself way too seriously to listen to guys who called himself Stick, Hershey, and Mike-O. Nicknames were dumb as fuck, and horse camp was dumb as fuck, and Davey might have had around half the contraband list in his backpack, but he was still planning on setting the stable on fire or something tomorrow and becoming a Crust Punk drifter, so really there was no point in listening.


	3. Dust is Not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As amusing as Davey is in this story, I do not agree with his views on horseback riding, which is the only sport I’m good at. That’s partially how Jade’s character got constructed: I needed a vehicle for my own epic horse wank, which does not occur in this chapter but eventually will.

Davey awoke at seven am on his first day of horse camp, and it might as well have been the end of the world. He couldn’t remember having to wake up before noon on a summer day in years. It just wasn’t protocol. He didn’t think it was _possible_ to wake up before noon on a summer day, but sure enough the 9B counselors started blaring Madonna’s _Celebrate_ at seven am, followed by the unsavory sound of ten groaning teenage boys. Davey’s chest felt like it might implode, an unbearable pressure settling upon it and compressing his organs. 

He couldn’t imagine riding horses at this hour. He couldn’t imagine doing _anything_ at this hour. He felt himself sitting clumsily upright anyway, scratching at the oily whorls of his unwashed hair that stuck up in the back, his tee-shirt tangled about his narrow torso. Hunter jumped noisily off of the top bunk and made the mattress squeak plaintively in protest, a sound which was the final straw. Despite his better wishes Davey was up, heaving his bedraggled self to a standing position and rooting through his backpack blindly for some clean clothes. 

The night prior had been filled with good old summer camp activities, but no horses yet. After the rules speech, Davey’s cabin was off to the dining hall to join the hundreds of other campers for a hearty taco dinner. It had been pretty awful, but Davey spent the entire time talking with Hunter, who actually ended up being sorta cool despite looking like he belonged in a Calvin and Hobbes comic strip. After choking down those godawful cardboard reminiscent tacos drenched in too-mild salsa and garnished with wilted lettuce, it had been off to the campfire for fucking songs and marshmallows. Davey was flabbergasted, thinking he was not only way too old for this, but that he didn’t actually believe camps _did_ this kind of thing, with the acoustic guitars and rounds of _This Little Light of Mine._

Disgusted but exhausted, Davey fell asleep rather abruptly the night prior, but upon waking the following morning it felt like he had only slept mere hours. Feet heavy, he plodded after his cabin mates to the showers, which were located in an entirely different building. 

“Cabin 9B is awesome, because Hershey’s a badass counselor,” Hunter explained as they trumped westward along a brush-lined dirt path. “The only issue is that it’s the farthest away from the bathrooms, so you have to get up an hour earlier,” he added. Davey would have made a snarky comment, but he was entirely too brain dead to make any sort of noise in response. Of course he got in the shittiest cabin in the whole stupid horse camp. Of course he had to wake up earlier than everyone else. 

Now, as Davey stood along the perimeter of a the main riding ring adjacent to the stables, he wondered why the fuck he bothered showering at all this morning, seeing as he was filthy already and hadn’t even gotten _on_ the horse. If this level of filth was to be expected every day, then Davey certainly wasn’t waking up at buttfucking seven am in the morning every day to shower, right before he went to breakfast and then headed straight down the trail to the dustiest place he’d ever encountered in his short years. 

That was one of the main reasons Davey didn’t care for horses or horseback riding. It was so _dirty_. It wasn’t as if all riding entailed was being teleported to the back of a fast moving animal. That would have been fun, that would have made _sense_ as to why people actually enjoyed the sport. The reality of the situation was much less glamourous, however, and Davey knew this from growing up at the hands of his horse loving, horse training mother. You didn’t just get to ride the horse, you had to take the horse out of the stall, groom the horse, tack the horse up, warm up the horse, and by the time all this had taken place you were already an hour into the process...only _then_ did you get to have fun and go fast or whatever. 

Not to mention all the _dust_. Davey existed in a predominantly monochrome wardrobe, and black was a terrible color to wear all the time if you were planning to be around dust. In fact, on the topic of fashion period, horseback riding ruined _every aspect of it_. Currently, Davey was leaning against the railing of the ring, sandwiched between two of the many kids approximately his age, all of which were wearing skin-tight jhodpurs in various colors, and either knee high riding boots, or the even uglier ankle high paddock boots. Seeing as Davey had been divided into the oldest age group, most of the aforementioned jhodpurs and boots were throughly broken in. 

Sure, Davey’s mom made him pack his old pair of crusty, torn-lace paddock boots from back in the day, when he as like twelve years old and suffered through a few months of riding lessons. They were a little tight but still fit, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to wear them. Davey was wearing tight _enough_ pants, his black skinny jeans from the day prior. And Chucks. He figured no one was going to notice, but now, flanked through these professional looking kids, he was self conscious and wearing tennis shoes and _dusty_ , plumes of pale brown dirt erupting from the ring every time a breeze blew by and settling into the dampness of Davey’s recently washed hair, which he kept on ruffling up. 

Right now Davey should have been listening, but wasn’t. There were about five counselors and riding instructors in the ring, all equipped with megaphones as they yelled yet _another_ lengthy list of rules and safety precautions to the half-aware campers. Davey was zoning out on his inappropriate footwear, gazing indefinitely at his shoes until Hunter, who was standing next to him, jabbed him in the ribs. 

“Pay attention, dude,” he grumbled, and Davey snapped his eyes ahead of him, fixing on the first thing he saw, which happened to be one of the megaphone wielding horse back riding instructors. As Davey’s gaze fell on the guy, a peculiar electrical jolt of fear made his skin crawl, as if he was waiting in line for a roller coaster for hours and only now was getting strapped in. He didn’t know exactly why, but he thought it might be because this counselor...well, he was _cool_

. Davey immediately wanted to be his friend, to be close to him, to be the kid this counselor called when he needed a buddy to go to a show with. He wanted to go skateboarding with him, or something. Right now. And it freaked him out, because in spite of any fronts or false confidence Davey exhibited, he was pretty sure he wasn’t cool enough to be this kid’s friend. 

There was no reason for Davey to feel this strongly about someone he hardly knew. Really, it had to be based solely on appearance. The kid was tall and lanky, in his late teens. The really intriguing part was his hair, which fell in a neat bleach blonde wing in his eyes, while the rest of it was brown and spiky and a deliberate mess, gelled to go in every which way in the back. On top of that, he was wearing a studded belt to hold up his johnpurs, and a loose, sun-faded grey band tee shirt. 

Davey didn’t know the band, but he wished he did. He wished he could walk right up to this kid and say without lying, “I totally love your shirt. I love that band. I love your belt. I love your hair. Let’s please go skateboarding.” But he realized how lame that would look even if he _did_ know the band, which he didn’t, so instead he just shuffled his feet, thinking that the only way he could win over this most likely awesome guy was to be a complete asshole, because that’s what kids like Davey did to impress each other. 

Like the spray paint on the steps of the Pasadena Civic Center, Davey figured this was a flawless plan. 

He leaned into Hunter, ignoring his demand to pay attention and whispering nonchalantly in his ear, “Whose that guy with the blonde and brown hair? Is he cool?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately even. Hunter squinted into the sunlight, holding a hand up to his brow and absently working one of his blonde spikes around a finger.   
“Uhhh....That’s Jade I think. He’s a counselor for 4A and teaches lessons...he’s cool I guess, I’ve stayed in 4A before.” Hunter shrugged, looking suspiciously up at Davey, who was a good head taller than him. “Why? Do you know him?” 

“No,” Davey said, hooking his finger through a frayed hole in the bottom hem of his shirt, feigning a complete lack of interest in the conversation, trying to appear as if this hole in his shirt was vastly superior to Jade and his cool belt and cool hair. “I just like the band on his shirt,” Davey lied. It was good enough for Hunter, though, whose eyes slid back to the ring. 

“Well, hopefully you’ll get in his section. They divide us between novice, intermediate, and experienced...he teaches experienced.” Hunter explained. Davey was sure he would have picked up on this little detail of the day’s events if he’d been listening, but he hadn’t been, so he was incidentally thankful for Hunter’s knowledge about the inter-workings of horse camp. He wondered what kind of rider he was. It had been a few years since he’d been in the saddle, but he _had_ taken lessons awhile back, and his mom was a trainer and everything. His skill was probably genetic, imbedded in him. 

“I’m an experienced rider,” he said confidently, kicking the toe of his black chuck taylor into a dried, nearly fossilized pile of horse poop, which crumbled into the ring, much to the horror of the girl standing next to him. 

“I guess you’ll be in Jade’s section with me, then,” Hunter said, sounding excited about the prospect of them riding together. 

“I guess so,” Davey responded vaguely, eyes back to being fixed on Jade and his skinny legs, narrow and willowy and disappearing into a pair of well-worn black boots. Jade toyed with the hem of his band-teeshirt and shouted the occasional rule in a bored sounding voice into the mega phone, and Davey spent the remainder of the speech squinting hard into the sun, attempting to construct creative and non-lame ways to be an asshole and therefore, befriend him.


	4. Riding Boots are not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing this story was kind of an experiment, because I left out almost all literary device and imagery. My aim in that was so move the plot along efficiently, and to make this a plausible narration for the consciousness of a fourteen year old boy. Unfortunately, it was way out of my comfort zone and I’m not sure if it works, especially in his chapter. So keep that in mind. Also, I could not resist putting an Earth Crisis fanboy moment in here. I apologize ahead of time. Here’s chapter four, in which the story-long humiliation and objectification of teenage Davey begins.

The horse Davey had been assigned to ride’s name was Baby. He was already partially mortified by this fact, but to add insult to injury, Baby was fat and brown and wouldn’t move, even when all of the other horses filed in a careful line into the ring, forcing Davey to inhale all their dust. The kids atop them, Hunter included, were looking at Davey and his dusty, black clad, blinking self with a sort of expectant confusion, like they weren’t sure why and he Baby were just sitting there. Davey timidly dug his heels into Baby’s side, and she turned around to look at him balefully, flicking a fly off of her mangy ear. Her expression seemed to say, _you have to try harder than that. Put some muscle into it_. Davey didn’t want to _hurt_ her though...so instead he just sat there like a dumb ass in his chucks. 

To add an additionally stinging insult to already bleeding injury, Jade was among the people staring at Davey and looking especially tall on his elegant bay mare, helmet obscuring his eyes as he smirked at Davey and Baby. Davey gave another half-assed kick and Baby huffed in response, taking an equally half-assed step forward and dropping her head to root around in the dust ahead of her for hay or something, completely uninterested in Davey’s attempts to move her forward. 

“Hey kid, you gonna join us?” Jade asked, easing his horse forward with a gentle pressure from his legs, riding up alongside Davey. Baby snapped her head up and Davey choked up a firmer grip on the reins. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just spacing out,” Davey mumbled shyly, suddenly aware of how close he was to Jade all of the sudden. He took him in, the bleached wing of hair that was slightly damp with perspiration, the flushed cheeks and crooked teeth. Yeah, he was really fucking cool. Davey was about to ask about the band on his shirt, which read _Earth Crisis_ in a plain, block lettered script, when he suddenly remembered his promise to himself to be an asshole so Jade would think he was tough. 

“Well, get a move on. Kick her, she’s a lazy old nag,” Jade drawled, leaning out of the saddle and way into Davey’s personal space, grabbing the leather strap fastened against Baby’s cheek and pulling. “Come on Baby, you stupid animal...” he huffed, nudging his own horse into a walk and dragging at Baby’s bridle. She ambled forward. Davey wished he had something assholeish to say, but he was silenced by Jade’s presence, his intimidating hair and studded belt like the one Davey had back at home, only more broken-in and scuffed up. 

“Kid, seriously, you need to kick her,” Jade said, sounding irritated, gaze flitting down to Davey’s feet, which were resting in the newly adjusted stirrups. As Jade’s eyes fell southward, they widened considerably. “Are you wearing tennis shoes?” He barked, letting go of Baby’s bridle abruptly and bristling, grabbing his own horse’s reins with long-fingered, gloved hands. Davey shifted in the saddle, sticking his chin in the air to look taller. 

“Yeah, so?” He said with false bravery, chewing on his lower lip. His voice wavered regardless, however, especially seeing as one of the other instructors in the ring had stopped along the rail, looking to Jade questioningly. Jade ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed sternly on Davey and Davey’s illegal shoes. 

“So, did you listen at all to the rules we just told everyone? Anything but boots are strictly prohibited in the ring. You get off that horse right now and go change into your boots. You brought some, right?” He asked, and Davey cowered internally at the condescending note in Jade’s low, bored sounding voice. Even when he was reprimanding misbehaving campers like Davey, he still sounded bored. He was _that_ awesome. 

“Why does it matter?” Davey said, ever-defiant. Even to him, however, his words sounded hollow and tinny, like he was actually full of shit. A brat instead of a rebel. Jade certainly thought so, not believing his tough-guy act for one second. 

“Because you’ll break your ankle, that’s why it matters. Are you _sure_ you’re an experienced rider? Should I send you to the novice group?” Jade sighed, giving Davey the impression of an exasperated parent that didn’t have the time to deal with this shit. 

“No!” Davey answered too quickly, too desperately. “I’m good,” he tacked lamely onto the end, kicking Baby swiftly in the sides to prove his point, praying silently to the God of horses that she’d move. Incidentally, she did, picking up a lazy walk. “See?” 

“Ah, so you were just being a prick. I get it. Whatever, get off the horse and go put your boots on, and if you come back to a lesson without them again, I’ll have you kicked out of this camp faster than you can say seven hundred dollar deposit, okay? Try explaining that one to your mom.” Jade drawled, smirking as Davey grumbled and dropped out of the saddle, handing the dirty leather reins lamely over to Jade, who was now _considerably_ taller than him, up there on a horse and whatnot. 

“Hurry your ass up,” Jade called after him, and Davey’s insides clenched. So far, Jade was the only counselor he’d met here thus far who didn’t have that cheesy _camp counselor_ way of talking...where everything was a cause for excitement. There was this corny, Aye Ay Captain! Tone they all had that drove Davey insane, but Jade...Jade just talked like a normal guy. A normal, semi-badass guy who actually cursed, which Davey knew from the three seconds he tuned in the night prior was against camp rules. 

As Davey marched the dirty, smelly walk of shame back to Cabin 9B, he realized again how filthy the sport of horseback riding was. There was this perpetual smell of sweat and salt and leather with the underlying earthy scent of alfalfa, and everything clung to him with a layer of sticky saddle dirt. He’d only been on the horse for a grand total of two minutes, so he could imagine how awful it was going to be after an hour long lesson every day. He figured that’s why after horse back riding there was lunch, and after lunch there was swimming in the lake. It seemed that really the only thing you could do with a bunch of kids after they’d stewed in their own dirt and horse-smell and dustiness was feed them crappy camp food and then toss them in the lake. God, the dining hell was going to smell wonderful during lunch. 

Davey internally griped about all of this as he trudged into his cabin and rummaged through his knapsack for those godawful ugly as fuck, totally not punk rock boots, which he grudgingly pulled on and laced with some difficulty. He wondered how on earth Jade, who was probably just about as skinny and gangly as Davey, managed to look cool in _his_ riding boots. It just didn’t make sense, but they made him look...handsome, or something. Maybe it was the studded belt over the johdpurs. Davey wished fleetingly that he’d thought to bring belts to wear, but pushed the thought out of his head, tying the final knot tight and racing out of the cabin, tripping halfway down the rickety stairs. 

 

By the time he made it back to the ring, all of the kids were already past the warm-up stage or the lesson and were lining up in the shade at one end of the ring, and cantering their horses one by one in a careful lap around the perimeter as the instructors yelled nonsensical shit at them about posture and whatnot. Davey watched from the sidelines as Hunter kicked his short, dapple-grey horse into a clumsy lope around the ring, and Jade yelled, “Good work, just keep your inside leg on him and look up...right where you’re going, between the ears...that’s it.” 

Davey was weirdly ashamed and apprehensive to approach the ring, but he noticed that next to Jade in the middle of the ring was Baby, looking as fat and brown as she had when he left her, snuffling along Jade’s horse’s neck, which twitched in response. He ducked under the rail of the ring bravely as Hunter slowed to a trot, and moseyed over to Jade and Baby. 

“Uh, hey...I got my boots on,” he declared, tapping Jade’s horses shoulder like that would get Jade’s attention. Jade looked down at him, smirking that way-too-cool smirk and fiddling with a hole in the side of his Earth Crisis shirt. Davey noticed the hole was in almost the exact same place as the hole in his own Sex Pistols shirt, and he smiled stupidly in spite of himself. 

“Good...I guess I gotta give you a leg up, huh?” Jade sighed, throwing his own leg over the horse’s back and dropping to the ground. He looked so freakin’ natural and graceful on a horse, or even getting off of one, and it both infuriated Davey and struck him full of envy. By comparison, all these kids looked like sacks of grain bouncing around on the saddle, where Jade seemed like he was _built_ to be up there. 

He approached Davey, first huffing in irritation and knitting his brows, reaching over to the chin strap of Davey’s helmet and tightening it considerably. Davey shied away, flinching at the sudden presence of Jade’s hands near his face, the sweaty-manly-deodorant smell of Jade as he lifted his arm up. He could feel his cheeks coloring, his insides squirming around like they did right before he went onstage in his third grade play. He wondered what the fuck was happening to him.

“You _want_ to die, don’t you...” Jade grumbled. “You gotta fasten that tighter next time, kid. What’s your name?” He asked suddenly, tossing the reins of his own, well behaved horse over her neck and patting her withers. 

“Davey,” Davey said automatically, instantly wishing he’d said _Dave_ instead. He’d been going by his childhood nickname for way too long now, and kept on attempting to change effortlessly to Dave which seemed more mature. Unfortunately, all the kids he went to middle school with were going to the same high school this coming call, and he was never able to shake the troublesome y at the end of his name. Jade narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Davey harshly. 

“Well, Davey. I’m gonna have to keep an eye on your punkass, aren’t I? You want to make trouble.” He sighed, but there was an almost affectionate note to his voice, like he understood the kind of kid Davey was because only a few years ago, _he_ was that kind of kid. After all, Jade couldn’t have been much older then eighteen; he had no traces of stubble and some baby fat still made his face soft, his cheeks kissably full. 

Davey recovered himself from his destructive, entirely inappropriate thought process with a stupid sneer. “I’m not trouble, I just resist authority,” it what he spat out, which was probably the stupidest fucking thing he could have ever said to someone, let alone someone like Jade, whose eyes just twinkled in mirth while his mouth stayed a flat line. 

“Oh, so we have a little Sid Vicious in training, don’t we?” He answered, glancing down to Davey’s Sex Pistol’s tee shirt. Davey wanted to take Jade’s comment as a compliment, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Jade was mocking him, and so he kept his mouth shut. After all, he had no fucking idea what Earth Crisis sounded like, for all he knew Jade could hate punk and think Sid Vicious was the root of all evil or something. 

The other instructor rode up to Jade, this skinny girl with dark hair in a bouncy ponytail that Davey was pretty sure most people would think was pretty. “Jade? Will you hurry up and get that kid up here? He’s holding up the whole line...” She complained. Jade glanced up to her, keeping his hands rubbing absently at his horse’s neck.

“You know, just continue the lesson without me....he’s already so behind, and his horse hasn’t been warmed up, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing so I’m gonna just take him to the east ring and work one on one with him today so he doesn’t miss the basics.” Jade sighed, handing the reins of his horse to the Pony Tail girl. “Take Willa, and I’ll teach him. If it cuts into his lunch, it’s his fault,” he said bitingly, his eyes cutting to Davey. “The rest of the kids shouldn’t be held up by him.” Jade added, and Ponytail girl nodded, steering her own horse away and taking Willa with her, who nickered lonesomely to Jade as he turned his back.

“Alright, lemme give you a boost,” Jade sighed, motioning for Davey to turn around. Davey didn’t know what a boost was, but Jade was standing so close behind him he could feel the warmth of his breath damp against the back of his neck, making his own breath quicken inexplicably, speeding up in time with his newly thundering heart. Jade smelled so good, in spite of the constant scent of dust and leather and horse shit that lingered everywhere, pervading all of his senses. 

“Okay, grab your reins,” Jade ordered, and Davey obeyed, taking the reins in his left fist while Jade offered his hand to step in. He stared dumbly as his hand, narrow and in a torn black nylon riding glove. “Step up, stupid,” Jade said, “And jump on three.” 

Panic was rising bright and writhing in Davey’s throat. Jump?! Jump where? On the horse? He wasn’t going to be able to jump all the way on a freakin’ horse just because of Jade’s hand. “One...Two...Three,” Jade counted, and Davey hopped up, Jade’s other hand gripping fiercely around his ass and near his belt loop, heaving him into the saddle. 

Davey was up there very suddenly, looking down as Jade’s flushed face, bright in the summer heat but cast in a sliver of shadow from his helmet. “Jeez kid, you need to eat more. I almost pushed you clear off the other side,” Jade joked, and Davey didn’t say anything, just blushed mortifyingly and kicked Baby into a slow walk, following Jade’s lanky body out of the ring, eyes downcast to hide his mixture of elation and shame that seemed to plague him whenever he got within a foot of Jade. 

he wondered what his private lesson would entail.


	5. The Sex Pistols are not (Really) Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Modern Life is War, Fuck the Sex Pistols. (Although I really don’t hate them half as much as everyone thinks.) Anywho, this chapter is chock full of pretentious horse-bullshit. I apologize for the terminology a ahead of time, but hopefully it’ll just help you sympathize with Davey seeing as he has no idea what Jade is talking about, either.

“Sit up straight. Straight, kid, _straighter_...No, seriously stop, you’re gonna fly off,” Jade barked, and Davey gratefully tugged on the reins until Baby stopped trotting, the horrific, ball-crushing up and down movement slowing to the rocking-chair smooth walk. Davey slumped in the saddle, sweating and wondering how on earth people like his mom and Jade and Hunter could possible enjoy a torturous pastime like horseback riding. Jade stalked over to him, hands on his hips and a frustrated glare painted across his features. 

“You’re bouncing around like a drunk person,” Jade bitched. “Suck in your stomach and arch your back...as soon as she starts to trot, you lose all your strength and let your back roll. You gotta tighten your abs so your center of gravity stays solid,” his voice was throughly exasperated, and he reached up to Davey, pressing his right hand to the small of his back and bending him. Davey had been slouching, exhausted with the discomfort of flopping around up there in the sun like a wet noodle. “Like that,” Jade explained, making Davey sit upright. 

“It’s so uncomfortable,” Davey whined, rubbing at his lower back where Jade’s hand had just been, clinical and firm like a teacher would direct a student. Davey supposed that’s what Jade was, and what he was destined to be for the remainder of summer camp: a teacher, not a friend, not the guy Davey would bond extensively with and go skateboarding off into the sunset with by the end of the summer. This newfound knowledge had him pouting, sore and frustrated and aching up there on the horse. Jade seemed entirely unsympathetic, features stony. 

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” he announced, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t sleep last night. I’m tired. Everyone else gets to go to lunch,” Davey complained, rubbing at his stomach meaningfully because he really wanted to follow the rest of the kids into the potentially smelly as fuck dining hall and indulge on nasty ass tuna-fish sandwiches and ruffle lays. He didn’t even care that he hated tuna fish. Anything had to be better than baking in the sun while this guy who was older and made him tremendously nervous berated his every move, and a horse named Baby overtly humiliated him. 

“I don’t care. Wear the right shoes if you want to finish in time for lunch. Now trot another lap, this time without flopping your back,” Jade ordered, pointing to the opposite side of the ring. Davey groaned, digging his heels into Baby’s sides as she picked up a walk. 

“Trot,” Jade sighed and Davey kicked her again, feeling the motion change from a side to side shift to an up and down, jack-hammering bounce. Trotting sucked. Seriously sucked so hard. Davey tried to keep his abs tight like Jade said, tried to hold his center of gravity still or whatever. Instead of feeling like a wet noodle, this just made him feel like a log, immovable and stiff but still bouncing around. 

“Nah, now you’re too tense. Relax a little, just remember to sit deep in the saddle, and tighten up your stomach muscles. Also, put your heels down, seriously. You’re gonna lose your stirrups if you keep your feet like that,” Jade called, watching Davey ride another two laps around the ring, body one long line of throbbing misery. Davey decided at this point that horseback riding was actually designed by the devil to punish men. It anatomically did not agree with them. It was pummeling his balls for gods sakes, and how on earth did he avoid that problem? No matter how good a rider you were, if you had balls they god chaffed. As if Jade could read Davey’s mind, he announced “I know it seems impossible to not hurt your dick, but trust me, it’s possible. Right now you have to suck it up.” 

Davey flushed, horrified and oddly thrilled that Jade had said ‘dick.’ Especially in reference to , _his_ dick. The thrilled was short lived, though, soon usurped by the much more pressing issue of his poor, abused genitalia. He sighed exhaustedly, sitting up a little to give his tortured dick a breather from the hard, squeaky leather. The motion of the horses trot kept on making him sit up anyway every other beat in rhythm, so why not?

Jade caught on right away. “Sit the fuck down, kid. You’re starting to post, and that’s not till next week. You have to learn to sit a trot before you get to post.” He declared. Davey had no idea what this terminology meant,or what post Jade was talking out, but he sat down again, keeping his calves tight on Baby’s side in order to prevent her from slowing down. He really, desperately wanted to finish this lesson before he died or his balls became so severely damaged he was forever prevented from reproducing. 

“Heels down,” Jade would yell every once and awhile, or, “Tighten your reins, she’s gonna run away with you otherwise.” Davey kept his own mouth shut, attempting to pass the miserable, crawling time by fantasizing about his awaiting tuna sandwich and a near future in which Jade rethought his impression of Davey and magically started to be incredibly nice to him. It was an uphill battle, however, and the fantasies turned from lunch to violent death. Davey wished that a lightening bolt would come out of the blue, cloudless sky and strike him off Baby’s back, that God would motherfucking smite him or something so he wouldn’t have to endure another second of this excruciating pain. 

The dust kept on billowing up and getting in his eyes, making them water. He looked down, trying to avoid Jade assuming he was a huge pussy and crying or something out of shame or pain or whatever. It backfired, though, and Jade would just yell, “Look up! Keep your eyes on the road, kid, would you stare at the wheel if you were driving a car?” and of course, that just reminded Davey that he was too young to drive, too young to even have a permit, while Jade was probably the proud owner of a Jeep or whatever. 

Davey was also distantly aware that his cheeks were a bright, impossible red, partially from being humiliated, partially from the heat and physical exertion. Davey was about to begin another lap when Jade yelled to him, “Okay, make her stop. That’s enough for today.” 

Relieved beyond measure, Davey pulled back on the reins, slowing Baby’s awful trot to a walk. He slumped across her neck, releasing one sweaty, shaky hand from the reins to rub the grimy sweat off his brow. “My ass and legs feel like they’re gonna fall off,” Davey declared, momentarily forgetting his concern to appear cool to Jade and admitting he was physically inferior to everyone else here in the way of riding, and really should be in a class of eight year olds or something. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens. Take an aspirin tonight because it’s only gonna get worse,” Jade said with false cheeriness, stalking over to Baby and patting her firmly on the withers, like it was her who’d just undergone the unbearable physical beating and not Davey. Davey sighed, unfastening the chin-strap of his helmet and rubbing the crease it left there in his skin, red and sticky with sweat. 

“Have you ever actually been on a horse?” Jade finally said after a few seconds of quiet, which had been filled with Davey’s labored breath and the sound of a breeze rippling through the pine forest surrounding them, the far away yells of luckier kids getting fed.

“Not in awhile,” Davey admitted, head hung and eyes fixed on Baby’s ratty brown mane, which he toyed with absently. His legs were burning now that he wasn’t using them to hold on for dear life. Jade nodded, still patting Baby’s warm, dusty neck. 

“That’s what I thought,” He sighed. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a break today for good effort and let you go get lunch. Normally we’d make you un-tack the horse and groom her, but I’ll take care of it. Tomorrow you’re moving down to the novice group, okay?” He may have been giving Davey a break, but his voice didn’t sound gentle or affectionate or sympathetic in the least. In fact, it was as gruff and patronizing as ever, as if he was _deigning_ down to help pathetic, untalented Davey. Do him this big fucking favor, or something. 

Unfortunately, Davey was in no place to turn down a meal, which he desperately needed. Shamed, he grumbled a muted, “thanks” after sliding off of Baby’s back and handing Jade the reins. He turned on his heel, ready to start running in the direction of the dining hall to stuff his desperate face and find Hunter so he could lament his tale of misfortune to him, when Jade’s voice stopped him dead.

“Hey Davey,” Jade called after him as he was almost out of the ring. A momentary bubble of hope swelled and rose in Davey’s chest, filling him with that excited, pre roller-coaster status apprehension that in spite of being an asshole, Jade sill seemed to cause in him. “Yeah?” he answered, turning around. 

“You don’t seriously like the Sex Pistols, do you?” Jade asked, smirking and standing with his arms crossed, one hip popped out. “Because they’re fuckin' lame.”   
The bubble in Davey’s chest abruptly popped, replaced with the overgrown, sinking feeling of shame. He sulked off to the dining hall, eyes downcast as if he was searching for his suddenly misplaced appetite, next to his suddenly misplaced dignity.


	6. Sloppy Joes are not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am that boy who eats gross things to impress girls. I don't own this, though.

The dining hall, as predicted, smelled like too many sweaty, dirty kids. Some of which might have hit puberty but didn’t know it yet, causing this ripe, stinking layer of BO to ferment underneath the camp food and horse-dust smell. Davey nearly choked on it as he got his food, which ended up being sloppy joes instead of tuna fish. He contemplated which was worse, poking disgustedly at his soggy sandwich. 

“How was your private lesson with Jade?” Hunter sneered next to him, tonguing food particles out of his braces. Davey made a face at him, furrowing his brows and looking up dejectedly through his overgrown black bangs. “Terrible,” He grumbled, choosing to omit the sordid details, like the manner in which his balls had been pummeled and otherwise obliterated both literally and figuratively. “How the hell do you enjoy horse back riding?” Davey asked Hunter before forcing down a few bites of sloppy joe, cringing. 

“It’s fun,” Hunter shrugged. He’d eaten the majority of his sandwich, plate smeared with a gory looking red-brown, and was now zeroing in on a chocolate chip cookie. There hadn’t been any of these left when Davey finally made it to the dining hall, so he glared enviously as Hunter munched on his. 

“It’s not. It’s painful,” Davey complained, voice muffled by the noisy, childish din of the crowded dining hall. He and Hunter were shoulder to shoulder with the other boys at their table, all between the ages of ten and fourteen, most of which were all chattering amongst themselves and pointing at an adjacent table full of girls, similarly tittering. “You’re just a wimp, maybe,” Hunter said, but Davey was ignoring him, instead watching the kids at his table with his lip curled. 

They were insanely annoying. He was slightly put off by such a blatant display of teenage sexuality. He supposed he liked girls slightly less than the average fourteen year old, but still, even he knew it was useless to obsess over them and debate whether or not it would be beneficial to throw a french fry at their table in order to provoke attention...that was the kind of stuff he didn’t get. He had a few friends that were girls back home, but he became friends with them by being nice, not by tossing shit at them, chasing them, or being an all around asshole. 

“I don’t understand why guys act like dicks around girls,” Davey declared, crossing his arms. There was a ginger haired kid at the end of the table, nose dappled in a substantial sprinkling of freckles, who was putting the remnants of his left over sloppy joe into a cup of milk, where he’d already shaken a bunch of salt, pepper, and cookie crumbs. His friends were laughing, all three debating on which girl they’d choose to drink this in front of. Davey stuck his tongue out. “I mean seriously. That’s gross.”

“They want to impress them,” Hunter said with a shrug, standing up to bring his dirty dishes to the kitchen, where a line of campers had already formed. 

“By acting like douches? They’re stupid,” Davey decided, following suit and piling his crumpled paper napkin on top of his mostly demolished sloppy joe. He trailed after Hunter, eyes scanning the dining hall tables absently before they fell on the back door, where Jade (whose shirt was mysteriously wet at the bottom, like he’d leaned against a puddled bathroom counter) and one of the female riding instructors were entering, laughing and talking to each other. Davey froze, his insides suddenly clenching with a mixture of shame and... urgency. He felt like he needed to do something, _anything_ to get Jade’s attention. He wanted Jade to notice him, say something to him, but he also wanted to hide and avoid any potentially humiliating conversation that might ensue in regards to his awful riding lesson. 

Jade was laughing still, bent at the waist with one hand resting on the girl’s shoulder. Davey noticed this and it made him a little nervous, but he didn’t know why. He wondered what they were laughing about, if it was him and his chuck Taylors, him and his Sex Pistols shirt, him and his complete and utter lack of talent and grace on a horse. Hunter was suddenly facing him, hands mysteriously devoid of dirty dishes. Davey just stared at him stupidly, mind still racing across all the assholish things he could do to get Jade’s attention. 

“Uh, what are you doing? You’re just standing in the middle of the dining hall, dude. People are starting to look at you,” Hunter said, glancing sideways at a table full of counselors to their left. In the time it took for Davey to have this brief interaction with Hunter, Jade made his way to said counselors table, sneaking up behind Davey like a real bastard and ruffling his already messy, most likely dusty, black mop of hair with one heavy open palm and announcing to half the dining hall, “All you do it hold up lines today, Davey.” He used that bored, uninterested voice, and it made a creeping heat rise like a rash up Davey’s neck. 

Jade’s hand moved down to Davey’s back then, clapping him there none too gently, like Davey was still on a horse and still needed to sit up straight. Regardless, his center of gravity or whatever the fuck was actually melting out of him right now, and all he could think about was Jade’s Earth Crisis shirt that was wet at the bottom. He stuttered out a lame, “I was just gonna go put my plate away” as Hunter steered him to the kitchen. 

“See you at the lake,” Jade called out after Davey’s retreating back, and Davey looked over his skinny shoulder to see that Jade was smiling, a huge, crooked genuine smile that sort of said in its own weird way, _I’m giving you a hard time kid, but I’m on your side._ Or, he thought that’s what it said. He couldn’t be sure. Davey smiled back wildly, his crazed feral boy-smile, and he almost tripped over the lace of his untied riding boot, slopping his dirty dishes into a tub full of grey, soapy water. 

“I wonder why his shirt was wet...” Davey mumbled, thinking it was probably because Jade had to hose Baby off after the lesson. He remembered her coat was matted with sweat where the saddle and girth rubbed, and he pictured thin, willowy Jade unhooking all those complicated straps and heaving the weighty leather from her back, his sinewy arms flexing and thin. This vivid image made the collar of his shirt feel itchy and too-hot for some reason, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, pulling at it. 

“He was probably washing horses,” Hunter mused, making the image in Davey’s head a solid reality. “You know, just because you’ve never camped here before doesn’t mean you can stand around in the dining hall and wear tennis shoes to go riding,” Hunter told him as they walked side by side out of the dining hall to change into their swim trunks. Davey shrugged like he didn’t care, letting his narrow chest swell a little. “I dunno, I was just trying to stir things up...” He lied, looking down and Hunter and feeling confident and cool because of their size difference. Hunter narrowed his eyes at him, reducing them to suspicious slivers of blue. 

Of course, the truth wasn’t that he was a rebellious badass or anything. In fact, it was quite the contrary. It might have been able to manipulate seemingly young, impressionable Hunter into thinking that all of the stunts Davey had pulled today were actually anti-establishment, anti-horse camp demonstrations or something, but really they were just the result of Jade. Jade made him stupid for some reason, made him slow-witted and nervous and dry mouthed, because contrary to popular belief Davey cared _deeply_ about what people thought of him. If said people were what he perceived to be cool, and so far Jade was the pinnacle of Davey’s perceived cool. 

Davey wasn’t going to admit this to a kid who looked like his only friend was a stuffed tiger, however. 

“There _are_ rules,” Hunter bitched, and Davey made a big scene out of rolling his eyes.   
“Yeah, and people like you follow them,” he shoved Hunter a little when he said this, making them both stumble across the dusty, sun-lit path to cabin 9B. 

“I dunno, I think you might just be breaking them to piss off Jade...if you think he’s so cool, you should stop being a dick. It’s no different than those kids who annoy girls,” Hunter mumbled back to Davey, rubbing at the back of his spiky, blonde head thoughtfully. Davey shut up right away, pressing his tongue to the insides of his teeth.

“Yeah, or maybe you’re just lame,” was his brilliant response. Hunter smirked, shrugging , and Davey kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the walk back to the cabin, silent until they’d changed into their swim trunks and grabbed beach towels for the lake, thinking all the while that Hunter may have been ten years old or whatever, but he was creepily perceptive.


	7. Drowning is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is also taken straight from my own summer camp days. Additionally, Jade’s love of Earth Crisis might be a little hard-hitting...but I think if I had known Earth Crisis when I was a high schooler, I would have been equally in love.

The lake was cold and Davey didn’t want to get in. He had his arms crossed in front of his skinny white chest, shoulders and face slicked with an oily, sweet-smelling sunscreen that Hershey and Stick made them put on before they even left the cabin. Hunter, of course, had already dove off the dock with some of his little friends from the cabin he stayed in last summer, leaving Davey to cower alone on the shore with a pack of twelve year old girls, all of which were too awkward to look anything but silly in their two-piece bathing suits, regardless of whether or not they were developed enough to actually hold the tops up. 

They were scampering around Davey shrieking like a pack of coyotes, but Davey didn’t even notice. He was too preoccupied with being ditched by his only sort-of friend in the whole stupid camp. His eyes kept on nervously scanning the hordes campers racing around the beach and splashing in the water for Jade, who had yet to show up with his cabin in tow. When he finally did make an appearance, Davey had eased his bony, blindingly white self almost waist deep in the water. 

Jade came up behind him with two other counselors, chatting amicably with them as the 4A kids raced around, trying to push each other off the dock. He didn’t even seem to notice Davey, gaze instead fixed on this kid who was trying to untie the back of a girl’s bathing suit, much to her irritation. Said kid was around eight years old.

“I hope she’s gonna smack Nolan...geez that kid’s fresh,” Jade snickered, loud enough for Davey to hear. This beefy black counselor next to Jade laughed boomingly, clapping him on the shoulder. “He’s got the right idea.” 

Davey tried not to look at Jade but it was a hopeless fight. His eyes were drawn almost magnetically to Jade’s body, thin and white and freckled, filled out and toned in all the right places, the places where Davey was still just skinny and narrow. Jade was squinting into the sun, fearlessly walking into the water a few feet away until it got deep enough to swim in, and then he was pushing off, slipping under the surface so the crown of his tawny and blonde head disappeared into a glinting wave of green lake water. 

Davey forced himself to grow some balls, gritting his teeth and throwing himself forwards into the water, which was still entirely too cold but whatever, he didn’t want to seem like a pussy. He dog paddled to the dock, where Jade and the other counselors had swam to and climbed upon before diving off again in spectacular black flips. Of course, a gaggle of female counselors had also congregated there, standing in groups and chatting, half-assedly watching the kids flail around in the water, making sure no one drowned. Most of them were okay looking, thinnish and tan with boobs which were a big draw if you asked most boys. 

Davey scrambled clumsily onto the dock, teeth chattering at he dripped water all over the sun-bleached wood. His hair wasn’t too long, just shaggy and overgrown enough to get in his eyes, be obnoxious, and carry a lot of water. He thought about shaking said hair out like a dog, but decided that getting all the girls wet who were lying on their stomachs sunning was really not the best way to top off an already sucky day. Sure, he wanted people to think he was badass, but he didn’t exactly want to get in any more trouble. 

Instead he just stood there dripping awkwardly, waiting for Hunter to remember that Davey existed and hated being alone. A breeze blew across the lake, making his skin prickle into gooseflesh as he shivered and watched Jade out of the corner of his eye, Jade who kept on snickering and laughing with his friends and plunging under the surface of the water. Davey made himself stare at the dock, picking at a splinter of wood with his thumbnail, where tiny remnants of black polish stuck to his cuticle. 

A commotion erupted on the dock next to him in the form of a bunch of shrieking girls, who were all screaming and pushing each other and crowding together like dumb cattle, blindly turning into each other. From what Davey could make out, a group of guys (Jade and Hershey included) dove down to the bottom of the lake and brought up handfuls of mud and lakeweed and other revolting, silty, smelly half-decomposed organic matter, only to throw it on the girls. 

It was currently dripping in dark rivulets down their legs, which was most likely the whole point. The boys were cracking up, splashing around like real idiots in the water while campers either watched them with envy or confusion. Davey, not wanting to get mistaken for a girl and end up with a face full of stringy green lake weed, jumped off the dock and back into the water to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, clumsily paddling away.

Much to his wide-eyed, dumbstruck shock, he surfaced right in front of fucking Jade, with his silver-white skin and cinnamon sugar sprinkling of insanely inoffensive freckles across his shoulder. Davey’s tongue stopped being able to move, and he kicked lamely in the lake, trying to keep himself afloat. “Hey Davey!” Jade said loudly, coupling his greeting with another hand on Davey’s head, this time one which pushed him fiercely back under again. Davey choked as Jade shoved him under the water, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder. 

As soon as Jade dunked him he pulled him back up again, grinning wide and quirkily, two-toned hair plastered in chunks to his forehead. “No hard feelings,” he explained, treading water next to Davey. “I’m just messing.” His hand remained on Davey’s shoulder for a split second longer than Davey was capable of enduring while still breathing, and incidentally Davey started sinking from lack of oxygen. Luckily, Jade’s hand relocated before Davey drowned. 

Davey desperately needed to say something, anything to distract from his flailing self. He was a terrible swimmer, and apparently a terrible rider, and this meant that to Jade, he was terrible at everything. Charmingly, what he ended up blurting was: “Why do you hate the Sex Pistols?” 

Jade snorted, flicking the hair off his brow and rolling his hazel eyes. “Because they’re a corporate boy band that destroyed the punk scene and capitalized on the movement, not to mention it was fronted by a couple of drug addicted assholes,” Jade spat out matter of factly. “In short, they suck.” 

“So...so you do like punk?” Davey asked, narrowing his eyes. They bobbed in the water, facing each other. Jade’s long arms were keeping him afloat much more effortlessly than Davey, who felt like a little kid in water wings or something. 

“Of course I do. But the Sex Pistols are not punk,” Jade declared, shaking his head. “If you want a good early punk band from the 70s, check out The Clash...they knew where it was at.” Miraculously, Jade’s bored tone, which Davey had previously assumed was perpetual, had completely evaporated. The mention of music destroyed it, and Jade now sounded genuinely interested. Davey latched onto this realization, hoping desperately to keep Jade’s attention, his interest. 

“I love the Clash,” Davey said quickly, glad that he wasn’t lying about something. London Calling was one of his most frequently played albums. 

“Good boy,” Jade said like he was a dog, but Davey didn’t mind, because they were both smiling. All of Jade’s cool, older, counselor friends were still swimming around, chasing girls with handfuls of fermented, rot-smelling lake grass, but Jade was here, talking to _him_. 

“What’s Earth Crisis? I uh, saw your shirt today...” Davey trailed off at the end, forgetting to tread water for a second and almost going under, chin dropping. Jade smirked, laughing this cute, unintentional laugh. 

“Only the best band ever. You wanna swim back to shore? You look like you’re gonna drown...” Jade’s already huge eyes widened, face white with the slightest smudge of sunburn across his cheeks. His hair was diminished and wet and slicked to his skull, but he still managed to be intimidating. 

Davey swallowed, answering weakly through his chattering teeth, “yeah, I guess so. I mean, if you want to.” 

Jade was already heading back though, ducking under the water and making strokes shoreward while Davey paddled awkwardly after him, getting held up by various little kids still splashing around in the shallow end. 

Much to Davey’s personal satisfaction, Jade waited for him on the beach, standing there dripping from his navy blue swim trunks, hands on his waist. “Anyway, Earth Crisis is one of my all time favorite bands...” Jade told Davey once he made it to shore. “You know, after swimming is an hour free time to kill before horsemanship...wanna come to my cabin? I can play you some of their stuff.” Jade said this nonchalantly, like it was something Davey might not want to do or care about. On the contrary, and entire army of cheerleaders were thrashing around in Davey’s chest, thrilled by the very prospect of conversation with Jade period...let alone a conversation about music, in Jade’s _cabin_. Davey kept the cheerleaders away from tainting his voice, though, and responded evenly, “yeah...yeah that would be cool,” in a calm, placid tone. Inside, however, he felt like he was drowning. The best kind of drowning.


	8. Pasadena is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep the music wank out, but the fucking title of the story has "Punk Rock" in it, so It seemed counterproductive to omit it.

The trip from the lake to Cabin 4A occurred mostly in silence, Davey walking a few steps behind Jade, who had longer strides. Jade kept on running ahead, picking up sticks off the mulchy earth and tossing them to the side, examining small, flat rocks and pocketing them. “For skipping on the lake,” he told Davey before trotting off again, kicking up dust which rose and clung to his still dripping swim trunks. 

He reminded Davey of a dog off the leash, excited and fascinated by every detail of his surroundings, galloping from clump of weeds to scrubby bear clover bush, sniffing eagerly and tail wagging. To really solidify the image, they were walking side by side for a second before Jade dashed off again, stopping ahead and leaning over something, head cocked. When Davey got close enough, he realized that the glistening, putrid-smelling thing Jade was scrutinizing with such fascination was half of a dead cat, its once-grey fur matted with blood and a rope of white intestine hanging from the torn body cavity like some sick balloon string. Davey wrinkled his nose, keeping a safe distance. “Gross,” he declared when Jade lost interest and started walking ahead. 

“Nature, kid. I bet the coyotes got him,” Jade shouted back to Dave, continuing along his merry way as Davey struggled to keep up. Upon arriving at 4A, Jade raced up the stairs and opened the door, holding it for Davey who trumped after him, legs sore from riding earlier and a wet towel hung around his neck. 

“Welcome to Cabin 4A,” Jade said, shutting the screen door with a clatter behind them and dumping himself, wet trunks and all, onto what Davey presumed to be his bunk. Davey stood in the dead center of the cabin, which looked nearly identical to his own, perhaps a little messier. He was waiting for an invitation from Jade to tell him to sit, offer a place next to him on the bunk, maybe, but it never came so Davey just sat on the floor, hugging his knees. Jade was throughly involved in rummaging through a black, worn looking duffel bag he’d pulled from under his bed, elbows deep in clothes.

“Got it,” he declared, pulling out a scuffed up ipod, the headphones wrapped around it neatly. “Time to begin your formal education.” He finally looked at Davey, one brow raised slyly in this way that made Davey’s guts writhe around and clench, a fist made of crawling skin. He swallowed, attempting to slow his breathing and appear nonplussed. 

As he watched Jade scroll through the artists on his ipod, Davey tried to figure out why the hell he was so stupid over this him. There had been other, equally cool looking, older guys Davey admired back home, guys who intimidated him...but nothing like this, nothing that continued to make his stomach nervous and his tongue stubbornly tied. There was something about Jade that magnetized Davey, pulled him in and forced him to crave proximity. Here, on the floor, all he could think about was scooting closer, sitting next to Jade close enough to smell what kind of shampoo he used, and the laundry detergent of the clothes in his duffel. Close enough to see the drops of lake water that occasionally slid down his neck from his wet hair. Davey watched these with a hungry gaze, wondering if they were warm from Jade’s body. 

“So, where are you from?” Jade asked conversationally without looking up, voice bored again in this condescending, superior-addressing-a-pupil fashion. Davey gulped, startled out of his intense examination of the fine, downy hairs on Jade’s neck. 

“Pasadena,” he answered, voice sounding as miserable as the place itself. He was deeply ashamed of living in Pasadena...it was terribly un-punk, with its tidy jewel-green lawns and well-paved streets, art museums and designer clothing boutiques. Yuppies and Catholic private school kids made up of most of Pasadena.

Jade snorted. “No way! Dude, Pasadena sucks, I’m sorry. I’m from Altadena,” There was a nonchalant note of pride in Jade’s voice as he mentioned his hometown, and Davey recoiled, embarrassed. He hoped that Jade hadn’t ever heard of Pasadena and he could possibly pass it off as a coolish place, but Altadena was practically in Pasadena’s back yard. It was the ghetto cousin of the two denas, the one that actually had some level of cred if you had the right friends. of _course_ Jade was from Altadena. 

“Cool, I skate there sometimes...” Davey said lamely, thinking about the time he nearly broke his arm skateboarding down Lake Ave to get a burger at Everest. The initial shame of his suburban birthplace was being overshadowed by the wild, frantic thrill of his realization that Jade lived close to him. _Really_ close. 

“Man, the only cool thing about Pasadena is that huge Target on Colorado. I’ve stolen so much shit from that place,” Jade laughed, and Davey nodded eagerly, spirits rising with the newfound prospect of their friendship, their friendship that might not just be a summer fling at camp, but follow them back home. “You shoplift too? I noticed the hole in your shirt today...uh, from cutting the security tag out, right?” 

“Yessir,” Jade nodded, cocking his head and glancing back to his ipod. “I stenciled the design on the shirt though...I don’t steal merch from bands. Remember that, don’t steal from people, just stores,” He declared, cocking an eyebrow at Davey and smiling. “Get over here. I want you to hear Earth Crisis.” Jade beckoned and like a little bitch, Davey followed, scooting his skinny ass across the bare floorboards to the foot of Jade’s bed. Jade offered him a headphone. “This song is called _Killing Brain Cells_ ,” he announced, and pressed play. 

Davey flinched a little a the volume, but the song began mellow enough, just this electronic sounding noise like a whirr of an overhead fan, or humming florescent lights. Then, the peace ended abruptly with a deep, growling yell. The song continued on pretty much in that way from then on, abrasively with heavy guitars and angry vocals. The kind of stuff Davey liked indiscriminately. Davey thought Sid Vicious and his off key, British wail was hardcore, but he was clearly mistaken. These guys were much more pissed off. So of course, Davey liked it. 

He glanced up at Jade’s expectant face, dark eyes wide as he asked in a too-loud voice, “What are they singing about? I can’t understand his voice.” 

“Killing brain cells. Duh,” Jade drawled. Davey was satisfied with this answer for a few seconds, afraid to push for a more detailed explanation, but Jade just laughed at him after awhile, shaking his still-dripping head. “They’re singing about drugs and alcohol and how they suck.” 

“Oh,” Davey answered stupidly. He wanted to ask more questions, inquire about Jade’s views on such matters, but refrained. He was confused, thinking that drugs and alcohol were usually considered cool and punk or whatever...after all, Sid Vicious was as fucked up as anybody on that stuff, and he was some kind of punk hero. But not Jade’s, apparently. 

Davey had half a beer once, and thought it tasted how horse piss smelled, that acrid, golden, fermentation smell. He hadn’t enjoyed aforementioned beer, but it had been better than the two of three cigarettes he and Adam tried to smoke in Adam’s cousin’s backyard once, sputtering and hacking and spitting after the fact. He never got why people enjoyed alcohol of cigarettes, seeing as his meager experiences with them had been pretty awful. He always thought he’d just been doing it wrong though, and shrugged it off like he was no big deal and thought it was cool. After all, before Jade he hadn’t thought it was possible to think that kind of stuff sucked and still be hardcore. 

The song finished, and Jade asked him, “You like?” he was facing Davey, and for the first time Davey was able to actually examine his face up close, instead of in sidelong glances or from the height of a horses back. He was younger than he acted, maybe seventeen or eighteen, at the very oldest. His cheeks were still rounded in youth on either side of a ski-jump nose, eyes over-large in this way that suggested he might still have room to grow somewhere. His lips were wonderful, symmetrical, impossible to not stare at. So Davey stared at his mouth when he said, “yeah, a lot. They’re so...pissed off.” 

“Fuck yeah. They’re straightedge vegan...I wanna be a vegan but my mom said she’d stop cooking for me if I stopped eating dairy, so as long as I wanna eat her food, I have to be a vegetarian.” Jade explained, and Davey listened raptly, seeing as this was the longest sentence Jade had said to him that didn’t involve Davey’s flawed form on a horse. He hung onto it desperately, hungry for Jade to keep talking. 

“Jeez, dude. I can’t imagine being a vegetarian, let alone a vegan...” Davey announced. Jade laughed, that perfect mouth splitting apart over very imperfect and crooked teeth. Davey smiled, unable to help it. 

“Well, it’s not that hard. In fact, it might be easier here, seeing as the meat in the dining hall will fuckin’ make you sick. Do you know what straightedge is?” Jade asked, scrolling through his ipod again. His brow was knit in concentration, plush lower lip pulled between his teeth as he chewed thought fully at it. Davey caught himself leaning in towards his leg, almost imperceptibly, and pulled himself back, administering a sharp mental kick. 

“Not drinking or smoking?” He asked. 

“Ehhh....very, very basically. Here, listen to this. This is Minor Threat, they coined the term. Here, I uploaded the lyrics,” Jade handed him the whole ipod, where he’d brought up the lyrics on the screen. Davey took it eagerly, the song immediately beginning with a fast riff he already liked. 

By the time the hour of free time ended and Davey and Jade headed back to the barn, Davey had received the abridged history lesson on the sXe movement, not to mention a few healthy doses of Minor Threat, Earth Crisis, and some Dead Kennedy's and The Cramps, which Jade played him because of his Clash appreciation. Davey was ridiculously, immeasurably, uncontrollably happy in this bursting, nearly painful way as his horsemanship lesson started, and he plopped into the seat next to Hunter at one of the picnic tables. He was breathless, bright-eyed. 

Not only had he just figured out what _real_ punk was, and learned about a whole new, previously unbeknownst to him subset of it that Jade was into...he’d hung out with Jade. One on one. In his _cabin_. Davey’s chest was a cage full of fuckin’ butterflies at this point; he could hardly keep the bounce out of his step. Hunter glared at him as the lesson began, which was thankfully only a half hour. Davey figured whoever was in charge of the camp figured out that a whole hour was way too long a time slot to expect kids to sit and listen to facts about horses, no matter how tired they might be after running around and swimming. 

As the woman standing before them began to list several horse breeds in the “hot blooded” category, Hunter turned to Davey and hissed under his breath, “Where were you?! I looked all over for you. You ditched me.” 

“I was in Jade’s cabin,” Davey bragged without looking at Hunter, keeping his eyes fixed on the woman and her chalkboard, her rudimentary sketch of a horse. She was currently telling them that hot blooded horses usually had high tempers, and a bunch of little kids in the front row were waving their hands around in the air, eager to answer or ask questions or something. “Plus, you ditched me at the lake.” Davey added. 

Hunter huffed next to him, settling back down into his seat and putting his head down on the table. “Whatever. Horsemanship is boring as hell, I hope you’re ready.” 

Davey zoned out around halfway into the explanation of Cold Blood breeds and their freight pulling uses, wondering what they were gonna have for dinner in the dining hall, and how whatever it was, he was going to actively skip the meat entree.


	9. Hoof Picking is Not Punk Rock

The next day, Davey was assigned to ride a horse named Princess. It just figured, seriously. He was destined for the rest of camp to ride horses with the most emasculating names possible, because the cosmic powers above didn’t want him to look cool to Jade. Davey didn’t think that he’d be subjected to humiliating himself in front of Jade anymore, seeing as he was getting moved down to the novice riding group and would be learning from a new instructor.

However, a previously stated, the cosmic powers above were throughly invested in socially exploiting Davey, so when he showed up to the novice riding ring that morning, none other than fucking Jade in his tight fitting spandex jodhpurs and this time, a white wife beater with the Dead Kennedy’s logo spray painted on the back was standing by the barn. He was twirling a crop and leaning against a shaded area of the ring’s metal rail. 

Of course, he didn’t notice Davey approach, who hid behind a gaggle of tittering girls in order to compose himself before he’d inevitably have to interact with Jade. For some reason, Davey’s cheeks were a sudden, fierce red, and his heart was leaping all around his throat. Of course. It just figured. 

Another couple of counselors were leading horses from the barn and bringing them to kids, who were in turn getting legs up. Davey hovered nervously for a moment, not exactly sure where to be and feeling completely horrendously dumb in his pinchingly tight paddock boots, until a chubby blonde instructor led a fleabitten grey horse to him. “Hey kid, you’re gonna be riding Princess today,” the counselor chirped, and Davey’s face fell. 

“Princess? Don’t you have any horses named like...” Davey trailed off, at a loss for what an acceptable name for a horse would be. Pretty much anything would be better than Baby or Princess, but the counselor shook her head, patting Princess’s dusty shoulder. 

“That’s what all the boys say. She’s a good horse though, you’ll be fine,” and before Davey could protest, Blonde Girl was shoving a plastic mounting block in front of him, and in three seconds flat he’d mechanically climbed the thing and was perched on Princess’s saddle, feeling dwarfed by his helmet. He allowed himself a furtive glance to the ring, where Jade had shifted from his nonchalant slouch and was adjusting some kid’s stirrups, the sinew in his arms flexing as he leaned into it, hefting the leather strap a few holes up. 

Davey felt sweaty and dizzy on his horse, and he hadn’t even started moving yet. _Maybe things won’t be as bad this time_ he tried to assure himself, taking a deep breath. _Maybe he’s just helping out here, and then he’ll be back to the experienced group later. Maybe now that we’re sort of friends he won’t be so critical of my utter lack of riding skills._ Davey then made the mistake of relaxing a little, and nudging Princess into the ring on Blonde Counselors orders. 

Unfortunately, there was no break. The second Davey and Princess ambled into the ring, Jade approached him with the same bored smirk on his face as always. “Hey there Davey. Looks like I’m still stuck with you, they switched my classes,” he drawled, hooking his gloved hand in Princess’s noseband and leading her, causing her to quicken the pace and extend her walk a little. 

“Look at you, already slacking off. Apply your inside leg from the very beginning, “Jade ordered with that perpetual disdainful note, grabbing Davey’s skinny calf and turning it inwards, shifting it a few centimeters forward. “Squeeze. Hold on. Let her know whose boss.” 

And so began another backbreaking hour of Davey flopping around on Princess’s back while Jade objectified him and criticized his every move, correcting his form. Straighten your back. Tighten your reins. Sit up straight. Heels down. Chin up. Look between her ears. Elbows in next to your body. By the time the lesson finished and Davey was reduced once again to a beet-red, sweating, heaving, panting mess of damaged self-esteem, he wasn’t sure if he was a piece of meat or a kid at a horse back riding camp. He had no idea that horse back riding was so _technical_. 

He slid off of Princess’s back after the hour was up, his legs literally shaking and his mouth thick with dusty spit. He was seriously considering forgoing lunch for a shower, after all he had those contraband granola bars hidden in his backpack and stowed away under his bunk. He was pretty certain by this point that Jade may have been halfway nice to him yesterday, but it was only because he really cared about the bands he liked and wanted to share them with people or something. It clearly had little to do with Davey as a person, otherwise he wouldn’t be so goddamn hard on him during the riding lessons. 

Davey snuffled, hawking a dirt-streaked wad of mucus and spit into the ring. It landed almost on top of the toe of his boot and he scowled at it, brow furrowing under the brim of his helmet. He hated horse back riding. He hated himself for being terrible at it, hated his heels for refusing to stay down and his hands for getting so slick with sweat he could hardly hang onto the reins anymore. He was halfway amazed that he hadn’t fallen off yet he was so bad at this. 

For all the stuff about Horse Camp that Davey hated, however, and for how much all these things revolved around Jade, he stubbornly realized that he didn’t actually hate _Jade_. He didn’t even dislike him. He still thought he was unbearably cool and wanted to be his best friend. Or he wanted to be him. He couldn’t quite tell. There had been guys in high school that Davey wanted to be; he remembered this guy Conner who graduated last year who was a really good skateboarder and had a 7 Seconds patch on his book bag. His hair had always looked really clean and he had this lazy, devil-may-care smile. Davey fantasized about driving Conner’s car, doing tricks like Conner, living in Conner’s presumed to be awesome basement or something. 

But Jade was different. Davey didn’t exactly want to be a good horse back rider or a vegetarian or look like Jade. It was more like he wanted to be in his space, close to him. Close enough to smell his deodorant and see where he’d had acne last year, those pock-mark scars only half healed. Davey just wanted to _understand_ Jade, wanted to know everything about him and like all the bands he liked, but just _because_ Jade liked them. 

It was an entirely new feeling to Davey, and coupled with the bouts of nervous sickness that plagued him every time he got within a ten foot radius of the guy, he was pretty sure he had some kind of serious problem. This sneaking suspicious was verified when the very subject of his confusion sidled up behind him as he was fiddling unsuccessfully with some strap on the saddle, not sure what to do with it but knowing it was important. When Davey realized Jade was behind him, his mouth got so dry he wished he hadn’t spit that impressive loogie onto the dirt. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you,” Jade sighed, reaching over Davey’s shoulder and deftly sliding the metal stirrup a leather loop and tucking the loop inside like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Didn’t you pay attention at horsemanship yesterday?” 

“Apparently not...” Davey mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. “Thanks though” He was in this overwhelmingly awkward place, still trapped between Jade’s and Princess’s heat-generating bodies. Jade, for some reason, had remained leaning over Davey, full weight supported by the hand he had flat against Princess’s haunch. 

“I suppose you don’t know how to untack her at all?” Jade asked, sliding his hand up her back until it stopped at the back of the saddle pad. Davey watched, mesmerized and kind of freaked out. 

“Not really. I can’t pay attention in classroom settings, I get bored” he admitted like it was a flaw instead of something to be proud of and show off for, which was how he usually delivered that line. Jade sorta robbed him of his usual confidence though. 

“Mmmm right. Well. It’s better to learn from example, anyway,” Jade declared, pushing Davey aside with his free hand and reaching under the saddle flap, revealing a series of metal buckles where the leather strap around her belly was fastened to. “This is the girth...you unhook it here but only on one side. Your right side, if you’re facing the horse.”

Davey stared with rapt attention as Jade’s abnormally long, dexterous fingers unhooked the buckles and the strap fell away, revealing a sweat slick strip on Princess’s underbelly. Jade rubbed the matted hair absentmindedly, like it was second nature to affectionately touch horses. Davey noted that, liked it. 

Then he hefted the saddle off, buckling a little under the weight of it, grimacing. Davey’s lower abs were clenching harder now than they had been when he was trying to sit a trot and keep his back straight. He realized then that he didn’t just want to be close to Jade and absorb his coolness and figure out all the bands he liked. He wanted to put his mouth right on his neck, there the downy brown hairs were damp with sweat and there were a few freckles scattered under the flush. 

This could only mean several very horrible things that Davey didn’t want to think about, seeing as a very sick, sinking feeling of dread had just settled cement-like in his gut. In order to distract himself from all the awful things his mouth wanted to do to Jade’s sweaty neck, Davey heard himself blurt, “Lemme take that saddle,” and he held out his skinny arms, which looked naked without those black bracelets he usually wore. He just discovered at this moment that he had a tan line from them, which was exceedingly lame. 

Jade didn’t say thank you, just grunted a little as he dropped the saddle onto Davey’s outstretched arms. “Take it to the barn, set on one of the empty pegs, and bring me back a grooming box.” He ordered, running a hand through the slightly dirty, stringy blonde part of his hair. Davey obeyed like a little bitch, stumbling to the barn and returning with what he presumed was a grooming box in hand. 

Jade took it from him, sighing and holding the tail end of a lead rope he’d just attached to Princess’s halter, her newly removed bridle hanging from his shoulder. “hand me the curry comb.” 

Curry comb? What? Did he want Indian food? Davey picked up a random brush and handed it to Jade, hoping it was the right one. Jade stared blankly at him. 

“The curry comb. The round rubber one. You really _don’t_ pay attention, do you?” He smirked then, grabbing the curry comb himself and beginning to rub it in a vigorous circular motion along Princess’s sweaty side. “Like this. You do it,” He shoved the thing into Davey’s hand, crossing his arms and surveying Davey’s handiwork. Princess snuffled appreciatively, and Jade patted her head, snagging his fingers lazily through the tangled forelock that tumbled like bangs between her ears and onto her brow. 

Davey scrubbed away, ruffling the sweat-damp horse hair so it could air out, he presumed. He noticed with a pang of unexpected jealousy that Jade was most definitely paying more attention to Princess than he was to him, scratching at the little white spot between her eyes and mumbling to her. “Thata girl,” he said, voice soft, and Davey scrubbed at her side harder, his string-bean of a bicep flexing wishfully. 

“That’s enough...now you take the hard brush, that’s this one,” Jade pulled it out of the tack box and handed it to Davey without looking at him, instead preoccupied with some dirt crusted where the headstall of Princess’s bridle had been. He then proceeded to show Davey how to brush the hair out with a hard brush, followed by a soft brush, and then how to lug her heavy, completely unwilling hooves up into his lap so he could simultaneously pick the horse shit and mud out of them with a hoof pick and attempt to not buckle under the weight. 

All the while, Jade just stood there ruffling Princess’s mane and tossing orders at Davey. The tops of his ears burned; he felt scrutinized and humiliated, especially when he called to mind the elated triumph he’d felt yesterday after visiting Jade’s cabin. It was incredibly humiliating to imagine himself then, feeling as if he’s conquered the power struggle between them and become Jade’s equal. Bracing his boots in the dirt and scrambling to keep Princess’s weighty left haunch on his thigh for picking, he realized he’d been sorely mistaken. 

“Alright, you’re done,” Jade decided suddenly, patting Princess’s neck and handing the lead rope to Davey, who was trying to appear as if he was nonplussed and not panting, but clearly was. “Take her home...” He started, looking absently to the breezeways of the stable before his eyes jolted _finally_ to Davey, who balked under his gaze, looking down and shuffling his feet. “I’ll walk with you,” Jade declared then, clapping Davey roughly on the shoulder like he would a horse. Davey’s spirit soared but he desperately tried to smother its ascent, dump a bunch of earth on the tiny, worming flame and keep his internal chalkboard peacefully blank. 

They walked in worn out silence for awhile, their bodies occasionally bumping in this electric way every time Princess leaned her considerable bulk too close to Davey, who would in turn stumble. Jade didn’t even seem to notice the fleeting proximity, but after awhile he said, “We don’t have free time until after dinner today, so come over before campfire. I made a playlist of stuff you need to hear,” He demanded this without asking, giving Davey little to no choice in the matter (not that he would have traded the dual illness and sick, hot excitement that suddenly began boiling in his stomach for _anything_ ) so he nodded firmly, pushed aside his confusion at Jade’s all together inconsistent regard for him, and answered “fuck yeah. That would be cool.”


	10. Peace is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I eat my apple cores. I expect the same from you.

The following week carried out in much the same way as Davey’s second lesson. He would ride some horse with a stupid name (he’d already gone through Cookie, Pink, and Sugar within the last few days) and Jade would be as harsh as ever, commenting minimally on Davey’s steady improvement and instead opting to harass him for his floppy back and never-correct- heel-placement. Oddly enough, however, after Davey endured the abuse, he’d spend his free time with Jade, listening to music and trading shoplifting tips. 

Jade was always an asshole in the ring, but outside of it he at least maintained the semblance of not hating Davey. Or maybe he just sincerely wanted more people to like Earth Crisis. Davey couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the constant back-and-forth yo yo from humiliation to elation and back again. He felt like a beach ball being bumped across the volleyball net they were expected to utilize during free time.

That was the other thing: Davey _loathed_ camp activities. He sucked at riding, but he might have sucked more at archery, swimming, volleyball, and hiking. This may have been an additional reason for his unstable friendship with Jade, who was similarly unamused by the traditional camp activities. 

This particular day they were hiking, a huge pack of kids shuffling along in the dust, some holding walking sticks and water bottles, others reeking of sunscreen and pubescent sweat. Davey was hanging near the back, dragging his feet and whining to himself because he was hot and since he’d been flirting with vegetarianism lately, there hadn’t really been a whole lot for him to eat at lunch, so on top of everything he was starving. Luckily for him, Jade was hanging back with too, a sheen of sweat adhering little strands of blonde fringe to his face. 

“Why’re you so out of shape?” Jade asked, elbowing Davey so hard he stumbled. “You’re so skinny, but you’re panting like a fat dude.” 

“Altitude,” Davey sputtered, kicking at a rock that skittered towards some kids in front of him, who looked back over their shoulders with a lot of disdain for eight year olds. Davey stuck his tongue out at them. “Plus, I’m tired from riding.” 

Jade ignored him, narrowing his eyes at the boys in front of them. “Little dicks. God, I hate kids,” Jade sighed. He used the same scathing tone when he was talking about kids as he used when he was talking about organized sports. 

“Can I ask why you work at a summer camp if you hate all camp activities and all campers?” Davey slid the “all campers” in there craftily, hoping Jade would correct him and say something reassuring like, _well, I like you,_ or _not ALL campers_... but he didn’t. He just shrugged. 

“Because I needed a paying job. And I really, really love horses,” he answered. 

Davey shook his head, perplexed. If he knew anything for sure about Jade at this point, it was that he loved horses. He thought this was kind of weird, seeing as he himself was pretty indifferent to horses, and Jade also seemed particularly cynical, and horses seemed like a weird, girly thing to be into. Even if Jade managed effortlessly to make it look cool. 

“Why do you like them so much?” Davey asked. “I don’t get it.” 

“That’s because you suck,” Jade said with a grin. “Maybe if you kept your heels down and stopped being so handsy on the reins...” He trailed off, looking wistfully into the surrounding forest. The far-away cries and shrieks of laughing kids had gotten quieter the farther they drifted behind the pack. Jade liked to walk behind everyone else so he could curse and not get reprimanded by the other counselors; Davey liked to walk behind everyone else because he was lazy and Jade was back there. It was a win win. 

“Maybe...” Davey grumbled, his ears getting hot. He wanted to argue that he’d been getting better, that even Hunter had noticed his posture was improving and his seat was stronger. He shut up though, in fear of sounding like a whiny kid. 

“No really, I just love horses, and riding. It’s so...I dunno. Calming or something. I was a really fucking awkward kid, and then my mom put me in riding lessons and I got so much better at school and making friends and stuff. It’s the only thing that stops me from thinking, except for music. Like, when I’m riding I’m focusing so hard I don’t have to think about anything else, and I’m totally calm.” 

Davey nodded, thinking that Jade was incredibly profound and smart and mysterious and ugh, now he had a stomachache. He clutched his abs, poking around his naval. “That’s how I feel when I listen to music, too. It uh...puts me at peace.” He admitted, feeling really stupid because Peace made him think of Christmas wrapping paper with doves on it, which was decidedly not punk rock. Jade didn’t seem to notice though, smiling lopsidedly at Davey instead. 

“Yup. Peace. Horses are peaceful to me. And its not just the riding part...it’s the whole process. Grooming, tacking up...I know it sounds really gay and whatever but I like how methodical and systematic it all is. Just you and the horse,” Jade sighed, his voice demonstrating one of those rare moments of softness. Davey thought of the time he woke up early to go to the showers before breakfast and saw Jade riding alone in one of the jumping rings, cantering with perfect form on his horse, Willa. He had looked so fucking handsome and together, elbows perfectly aligned, half-seat right before each jump, making the whole thing look _delicate_ , easy. Davey’s stomach had been coiled until he’d showered, cold water because he didn’t want to feel what he was feeling for a second longer, because that would require actually thinking about and deciphering it. 

“I dunno why I’m so bad at it.” 

“Because you’re dumb,” Jade said, eyeing Davey. “Why are _you_ here?” 

Davey flushed crimson. He didn’t want to tell Jade about the spray paint incident. What had seemed anti-establishment then seemed incredibly dumb now. He swallowed thickly. “I got in trouble. My mom’s a horse trainer so she thought this would straighten me out or something...it was just really stupid though, I didn’t need to be straightened out.” 

“What did you do? Tell me you didn’t get caught stealing shit, because that would be unacceptable,” Jade told him, holding a finger up accusatorially. Jade prided himself at being supremely good at shoplifting, living by the motto, “If you get caught, then you’re doing it wrong.” Davey shook his head, wrinkling his nose. 

“I was gonna tag the Pasadena Civic Center with my friend Adam.” He left out the whole curfew and possession of spray paint part, because it made his lack of cred lack even more substantial. Jade laughed. 

“Wow, little rich boy rebel. You’re tough Dave. Real tough,” he snorted and Davey paled, feeling incredibly lame. Jade interpreted his peaky color to health instead of humiliation, though, saving his reputation by asking, “Have you eaten lunch? You look like you might die.” 

“Uhh, I could afford to eat. I mean, if you have some granola hidden somewhere,” Davey answered hastily, eager to depart from the subject of his nonexistent arrest and upper middle class concept of rebellion. 

“I have an apple. I’ll give it to you under the condition that you eat the entire thing, core and all. You must be a part of the Hard-Core Club at this camp,” Jade said very seriously, digging around in his backpack blindly before brandishing a bruised McIntosh. Davey stared at it, thinking he was so hungry he probably would have eaten the core anyway. 

“I’ll take it,” he told Jade, grabbing the apple and biting in, golden juice running down his chin and streaking through the grit. Jade looked at him strangely, one eye narrowed with the brow drawn elegantly above it. There was this sudden grave weight to the air around them, like the surrounding forrest had become silent in this instant. They looked at each other, kind of bewildered. 

“Wipe your face. You’re gross,” Jade finally declared, shattering the tension. Then he shrugged off his backpack, handing it to Davey. “Hold this for a hot minute, I’m bored as hell. I need to run.” 

And with that, Jade jogged off, shaking his head like a horse as he broke into a sprint, leaving Davey with sticky hands and an apple, stumbling under the weight of Jade’s backpack wondering how on earth he was going to survive the next two weeks of horse camp without understanding Jade one bit.


	11. Campfire is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is The Chapter in Which Shit Finally Happens!

Davey still wasn’t sure wether or not Jade hated him on Friday evening. After all, he’d been as frustrated as ever when he watched Davey ride, this time criticizing him for never posting the trot right. Apparently there was a right way to bounce up and down on a horse, and it had to do with which one of their legs was forward or something. Davey could not get it for a life of him, and Jade couldn’t explain it for the life of him, so they just glared at each other for the last fifteen minutes of the lesson, during which Jade made Davey post in the saddle without stirrups, which was actually code-word for torture. 

Miraculously, they still hung out during the free time in between dinner and campfire, sprawled on a bench near the lake talking and watching girls take canoes out on the water, awkward and puffy in their bright orange life-vests. Davey kept on feeling pressured to make a comment about how he was checking the girls out (which he wasn’t) but Jade never did, so he figured he was safe. They were in the middle of a hefty debate over the meaning of anarchy when Jade said suddenly, “dude, let’s ditch campfire.” 

Campfire was probably Davey’s least favorite part of horse camp. It was when everyone gathered around the fire and certain cabins performed skits, and then everyone sang stupid as fuck songs like “Bung-a-low” and “On Top of Spaghetti.” Jade dealt with campfire by being the loudest singer of everyone and acting so overly enthusiastic that his mockery seemed cool, but Davey just stood there silently while Hunter shot him critical glances for not making an effort. It was positively the worst hour of the day, and he always came back from it smelling like wood-smoke, which sucked. In short, he would love to skip it. But he wasn’t entirely sure that was allowed. 

“Skip it? We can’t skip it. They’ll know we were gone,” Davey argued, gesturing vaguely to the beach and all its teeming activity, campers and counselors and lifeguards and whatnot. 

Jade scoffed. “Come on, Sid Vicious. Prove you’re a rich boy rebel. No one will notice. Plus, you’ll be with me and I can just tell them I needed to work more with you and your terrible riding skills...anyone’ll believe that,” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Please?” 

Davey was instantly undone by the please. “Yeah, okay. But if we get in trouble it’s your fault.” 

“It’s gonna be my fault anyway, I’m the authority figure here, buddy boy,” Jade declared, flicking Davey’s arm where it rested on the back of the bench like a mosquito landing strip. 

As a counselor used the megaphone to announce campfire, and kids started disappearing and filing into their half-assed single file lines by cabin, Jade told Davey to just stay there nonchalantly. This was another major pillar of his shoplifting technique: nonchalance. He hypothesized that no one would ever suspect ill intention if you pretend like you’re supposed to be there, doing what you’re doing, stealing what you’re stealing. 

He reminded Davey of this, boasting about this one time he stole a shirt from a Wal Mart while talking to a employee. All the while the beach was clearing out, kids tripping up the bank and counselors complaining in hushed voices about how stupid campfire was. Jade even nodded to a few of his friends as they left, maintaining the image of confidence. Soon, everyone was gone, leaving Davey and Jade slouched on a the sun-bleached, splintery bench, looking out over an orange sunset creeping along the horizon line of the lake. Davey felt tense in their isolation, poised like a spring trap ready to snap shut at the slightest rustling. 

“Relax,” Jade told him like he could sense his nervousness, the one eye that wasn’t covered by his hair seeming impossibly huge in the fading light. The dusk was balmy but Davey shivered, eyes dropping. Jade continued his Wal Mart story, assuring Davey, “Walmart has a three strikes policy I think...the first few times you steal something and get caught you’re just issued a warning. Someone has to be so fucking dumb to get busted three separate times.” 

“I almost got caught once, setting off security because I missed one magnetized strip in this wallet. It was so scary, but I got out of it. Just by lying well,” Davey said calmly, his muscles slacking a little bit as he gazed away from Jade and to the reflection of the setting sun in the water, huge and orange like a egg yolk. 

“If you lie well you’ll never get caught. Good liars are good shoplifters,” Jade said for the billionth time. “I’m a fantastic liar.” His smile was so winning and bright Davey actually kind of swooned a little.

They sat in silence for awhile, Davey counting mallards on the lake to avoid looking at Jade, who was causing this feeling of complete loss of balance inside of him. If his eyes fell on Jade’s plush mouth and sunburned cheeks glowing hot in the almost-dark, he suddenly felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, tottering there and nearly falling off, plummeting to his untimely demise. So ducks and their quiet, lonely honking it was. 

“Hey.” Jade said after awhile, voice very, very low. Davey’s heart started. 

“What?” 

“Come here,” Jade said softly. Davey stared blankly at him then, wondering where on earth Jade wanted him to come to, seeing as they were already sitting so close their knees were touching on the skeleton-wood of the bench. He remained silent, stomach one huge knot of confusion. 

“Come on,” Jade urged again, this time reaching out with one hand and beckoning with his index and middle fingers impatiently, lowering his head a fraction of an inch so his hair slid out of the way and revealed his other eye, pleading and half-lidded and the color of dark clover honey. Davey leaned in carefully, holding his breath. “I know you want to,” Jade added. 

Davey was careening off that precipice now, tumbling from solid footing and into a crevice of endless space, arms pinwheeling, heart racing, as he felt the heat from Jade’s burnt skin warming him, the dampness of his breath swaying dangerously near his mouth. 

And then Jade’s outstretched hand closed around the back of Davey’s head, dragging his resisting flesh in those last few inches to crush their lips together. Davey was so shocked he couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, nor could he kiss back properly, so instead he just sat there dumbfounded with slack, barely parted lips, mind caught on the stomach-turning thought: _I know you want to._ And perhaps for the first time since he saw Jade in his Earth Crisis shirt and well worn in riding boots, he realized he _did_ want to. He’d wanted to all along. 

His paralysis didn’t seem to deter Jade, who kept on kissing him gently, fingers massaging tiny circles into the back of Davey’s neck as he eased his mouth further open with a insistent, salty tongue, body-heat encasing Davey’s already feverish person within a womb-like warmth. Then Davey groaned a quiet involuntarily groan, kissing back even though he’d never kissed before, and didn’t know how to do it right. . 

He felt Jade smile against his mouth, pulling back for a second to murmur “That’s it...” like he would to a horse. The hand that wasn’t at Davey’s neck tightened around his thigh, gripping it firmly and tugging Davey nearer to him, encouraging him to straddle his lap. Davey went for it, swinging his other leg over Jade’s thighs and pressing his crotch flush to Jade’s stomach, hands braced on his shoulders. At this point he was kissing back eagerly, sucking hungrily at Jade’s lower lip, flicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth with an exploratory newness. He could not fucking believe that _Jade_ had initiated this, that Jade wanted to kiss him, wanted to touch him. 

And touch him he did, raking his hands under Davey’s loose fitting shirt and onto his back, where he kneaded hungry fingers along his spine. Davey felt like he was burning up, skin flaying and coming off and evaporating in little curls of smoke as Jade rubbed the muscles in his back, thumbs grazing his ribs with a very _I’ve done this before, to boys just like you_ confidence. 

Davey pulled away breathlessly, forehead dropping to Jade’s shoulder as he sucked air in desperately, realizing he was shaking. This was all happening very fast but Jade didn’t miss a beat, swollen mouth adhering to Davey’s collarbone and licking the salty skin there, making a broken kind of noise. 

“You okay?” he mumbled into Davey’s pulse, hands still tracing lightly over his torso, barely there touches that implied he wanted to maul him but was holding back. Davey’s breath shuddered out of him in great gasps. Was he okay? He didn’t know. His stomach had never hurt so badly in his life with all the clenching and unclenching it was doing beyond his control, but his dick was achingly hard in his swim trunks. 

“I think so,” Davey said faintly. 

“How old are you?” Jade then asked carefully. Davey tensed, fearing Jade might freak out at his age and stop this whole thing, which he most definitely did not want to happen. 

“Sixteen,” he lied. 

“Don’t lie,” Jade scoffed, poking him in the ribs. 

“Fourteen,” Davey breathed out, wincing. Jade’s eyes widened. 

“Hmm. I think you’re the youngest guy I’ve ever wanted to fuck. But that’s okay,” he murmured without allowing Davey to process the word _fuck_ in all its one syllable glory.   
Jade kissed gently up his neck, stopping at the baby-soft skin behind his ear, which he breathed on hotly. “I want to take you back to my cabin. No one’s there,” he whispered. Davey shook his head stupidly, totally incapable of making a sentence. He kept on thinking about how thick Jade’s voice sounded, and that it was _him_ that was making it sound that way, that _he_ had the power to slur Jade’s speech. That if he decided to go to Jade’s cabin, there was no turning back and all the meaning implied behind the weighty reality of the word _fuck_ would be realized. 

“Yeah...yeah okay,” he sighed, tightening his grip on Jade’s shoulders. 

“Thata boy,” Jade answered, placing one more lingering kiss on Davey’s lips before shoving him from his lap, entwining their fingers, and heading towards 4B.


	12. Premature Ejaculation is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter legit made my boyfriend realize they were in love with me. That's how long ago I wrote this, and also what a dork my boyfriend is.

By the time they got to Jade’s cabin, Davey was a mess of combined nerves and arousal, shivering so hard he thought he might have taken off and flown away or something had he not been physically tethered to Jade’s hand. In contrast, Jade was completely together. Clearly turned on, but otherwise not falling apart in any sense of the word. He wasn’t trembling like Davey was, and his heart wasn’t _audible_ or anything. 

Davey tried to calm himself down, especially when Jade shut the door behind them and hefted his duffel bag in front of it. “So if they come back, which they won’t, we’ll hear them.” He announced this like it wasn’t a terrifying possibility and wouldn’t get him fired or anything. His eyes had locked on Davey after that, black and huge and starving. 

“Lie down,” he said walking towards Davey and pulling his own shirt over his head before looming over him, resting his hands on his narrow hips and rubbing the jutting bone. Davey mechanically obeyed, sitting down awkwardly on the edge of the bed before Jade pushed him onto his back. Then it was really happening, and Jade was kissing him again, fitting their mouths together and closing his teeth gently onto Davey’s upper lip, tongue searching the slippery space beneath it. Davey was writhing, beside himself. 

Jade’s body covered his, sinewy against Davey’s tentative hands. Davey felt the solid flex of his bicep, the shallow valley between his ribcage, imagined his own lips pressed open and searing to the white skin. And then Davey was falling apart, disintegrating under Jade who was sucking little spots of color onto his neck, nuzzling into his overgrown hair and murmuring insane things like, _I want to mark you up but that would be a bad idea_ and _you taste so fucking good._

Davey just about died when he felt Jade’s palm attach itself unapologetically to his dick, squeezing and rubbing. “Fuck,” he choked out, sitting bolt upright and almost hitting his head on the bunk above them. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Jade’s hand there, he was just so fucking turned on and sensitive it almost hurt. Jade ignored his squirming, placing a wide, calloused palm on his quivering stomach muscles and pushing him back towards the mattress, rubbing him there until he calmed down. 

Then he gazed down between Davey’s legs, tracing the outline of his hard dick with an index finger, cupping his balls through the jersey fabric of his swim trunks. He did that for a long time, just lightly touching Davey through his clothes until there was a mortifying wet-spot of precum showing up black on the navy blue, and Davey couldn’t keep his hips still. 

“Jade-- Ah, please, _fuck, please,_ ” He finally wheezed out when it got too unbearable. Jade smiled triumphantly then, face splitting in this way that revealed how young he was. 

“Please what? What are you gonna let me do?” He asked, hooking his thumb in the elastic of Davey’s trunks and tugging, revealing a strip of white flesh, even paler than the surrounding skin of his abdomen. Jade leaned down and licked it sloppily, making Davey squeak the most embarrassing squeak. 

“Touch me,” Davey ground out through a clenched jaw. 

“With my hand? Or my _mouth_?” Jade’s voice was muffled by the skin of Davey’s hip, which he was still sucking at. The suggestion of his lips, already flushed from kissing, so close to Davey’s dick sort of answered the question for him immediately. He clenched his eyes shut tight, the image of Jade’s eyes all lusty and dark and his mouth so wet kind of making him dizzy. 

“Your mouth.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Jade said before he pulled Davey’s shorts off of his hard cock, ducked his head down, and licked one long, meaningful strip from the base of the shaft to the glistening head. Davey yelped, jerking his thighs together and trapping Jade’s neck between them. Jade didn’t seem to mind, instead gripping Davey’s hips with bruising force and taking the entirety of his dick into his mouth. Davey wasn’t _small_ , really, not for his age or anything, but Jade certainly had no problem taking the hot, salty flesh into the hilt, spit-slicked lips nestled in Davey’s pubic hair, chin at his balls. 

Davey grabbed Jade’s pillow, which smelled like dirty hair, and shoved it between his teeth to keep himself from crying out. Jade’s mouth, like the rest of him, was fucking _perfect_. Searing and unimaginably wet. He sucked on him, dragging upwards to lick messily at the tip before swallowing again, humming gently. 

At first Davey’s hands had been resting in the lake-water damp mess of Jade’s hair, but he let go to clutch the bedsheets instead, twisting handfuls of them and keeping his hips absolutely still to prevent any more friction, because anymore friction meant he would be coming like the fourteen year old he was, three seconds into his first blowjob. Jade’s hands clawed up his thighs, strong and commanding from horse back riding. 

Davey let his mind wander, trying to think of as many things as possible that weren’t the insane, white-hot prickles of sensation crawling up the backs of his knees and shooting into his gut. He tried to banish the image of Jade’s eyes all hazy and half-lidded before he kissed him, he tried to forget the fierce grip Jade had on his waist while he straddled him on the bench, shamelessly grinding. The second any of these things crept into his mind his cock threatened to explode, so he instead tried to think about his day: luke warm shower, greasy breakfast, riding Cookie and Jade’s insistent commands to tighten his lower leg. But of course, because this was the way things worked when you like someone, all Davey’s thoughts of horses inevitably meandered back to the time he saw Jade riding Willa alone early in the morning, his forearms tense and flexing, mouth set tight in a line of patient concentration. At peace. 

Davey came with his back arched and his toes curled and his tongue flattened to nonexistence between his back teeth. When his ass finally collapsed back into the bed, Jade’s palms where there to grip it, kneading the flesh hungrily as he milked the last drops out of Davey’s spent dick, eventually letting it slide messy and wet from his mouth. 

“Uff,” Was what Davey hissed out when the static cleared from his vision, emerging from under Jade’s pillow and spitting into his palm. His saliva was streaked pink, and he realized he’d bitten his tongue. “I’m bleeding.” 

“I must be good,” Jade said cockily, laying down next to Davey and snuggling in close, wiping his mouth on his arm. “Scoot over dude, you’re taking up all the bed.” 

Davey heaved his exhausted body over a few inches, laying there staring at the bottom of the top bunk, picking out shapes in the whorls and grain of the wood. He could feel his skin cooling, still warm from where Jade’s body was pressed up flush against him. Jade propped himself up on his elbow, leaning over Davey’s skinny boy-chest and stroking it gently, from sternum to naval. Davey shivered, suddenly self conscious about his exposed, over sensitive dick. He grabbed his discarded swim trunks, covering himself up. 

Jade made an impatient noise. “What’re you doing?” he said, snatching the shorts from Davey. “I wanna look at you,” he mumbled, purring gently and burying his face into his Davey’s sweat-sticky neck. His hand slid over his abs, thumbing the rim of his belly button. He nudged his hips against Davey’s thighs, erection straining against the fabric, hot and demanding against Davey’s bare skin. Davey prudently reached out and touched his cock with nervous fingers. 

Jade groaned low in his throat, rolling onto his back so Davey could take care of his hard on. Davey didn’t know what the fuck to do. He jacked off, all the time, but he reality of actually doing it to someone _else_ was entirely daunting. Especially someone like Jade, who was good at sex. Just like he was good at everything else. 

With this realization, Davey got instantly determined, worming his way down the bed so his face was level with Jade’s dick, which was decidedly bigger than his. He gripped it at the base, inhaling the musky, foreign but somehow familiar scent before he pulled the gym shorts off, nails grazing Jade’s hips as he did so. Jade settled back down to the mattress, looking expectant and petting Davey’s messy shock of black hair, tucking it behind his ear. 

“You think we have time?” Davey asked, balking now that he was finally confronted with Jade’s cock, flesh and blood and _real_ , two inches from his face. Red, then nearly purple at the crown. Circumcised, glistening with precum at the slit. Davey’s mouth watered, but his heart raced, forcing him to freeze here with wide eyes. 

“We _better_ have time,” Jade urged, gently pushing Davey’s head forward. “What’re you waiting for?” 

Davey tentatively leaned in and licked the tip, collecting the tiny drop of precum that had collected there. It tasted sharp and bitter, like too much salt. Still, Davey felt himself murmuring low in his throat, inching closer and closing his lips over Jade’s cock, sucking and swirling his tongue around experimentally. 

“Ugh, perfect,” Jade mumbled out in a hoarse voice, lacing his fingers in Davey’s hair and pulling. Davey smiled around his mouthful of cock, sucking with more confidence as he bobbed his head, realigning himself so the angle of his neck was less straining. He liked this. Definitely. He liked the heady, damp smell of Jade’s skin down here, he liked the view he had of shuddering stomach muscles under the trail of course brown hair from his naval to his cock. He liked the appreciative, animal-sounding noises Jade made as he rocked his hips. 

The humidity in the cabin increased as Jade started to sweat, beads of it collecting on his sternum and near the flushed, taut tendons of his neck. Davey’s stomach clenched and as he licked, fingers creeping from the tight muscles of Jade’s thigh to the hot, soft space between them, carefully coming to rest against his balls. 

Davey didn’t have time to prepare before Jade gripped his hands to the back of his head and came down his throat with wild spasms, jerking silently. He swallowed most of it and kind of choked on the rest, letting it streak down his chin like the apple juice from the other day. Jade didn’t seem to need any recovery time, instead tightening a fist in Davey’s shirt front and heaving him up, jamming their mouths together and swiping his tongue across Davey’s chin, licking up his own jizz. 

A little taken a back, Davey yanked away, frantic rabbit-like fear in his eyes. Jade loosened his grip, thumbing along Davey’s lower lip with a hazy look in his eyes. “You look so fucking hot like that,” he added, smiling. 

Hot? That floored Davey. Jade was pretty much the hottest human being he’d ever ever met, and here he was, telling Davey _he_ was hot. He blushed fiercely, squirming under that hungry gaze. “Uh, like what?” 

“With shit on your chin. Or just messy. I dunno. Always,” Jade shrugged, kissing Davey a few more times with slow, firm open mouth kisses, raking a hand through his hair. The he rolled onto his back, stretching while Davey lay speechless and with a stinging throat. 

The longer they laid there in silence, the more freaked out Davey got. He wasn’t freaked out because he’d kissed a guy, or blown a guy or swallowed his come or whatever; he was freaked out because it was becoming clearer and clearer to him that he stupidly, dangerously, horribly loved Jade, and he wasn’t even sure if Jade _liked_ him. 

He felt his own face getting warm, his body becoming restless. Jade was humming quietly to himself, eyes closed and face young-looking and upturned to the bunk above them, chest silently rising and falling with collected breaths. Davey stared at him, eyes burning with how many things he wanted to do to him, how badly he wanted to throw himself face down on that chest and kiss and kiss and bite and other stupid shit. And Jade looked like he didn’t even care they’d just sucked each other off, that they were laying there naked together in a narrow camp-bed. 

“Jade?” Davey asked in an awful trembling voice. “Can I ask you something.” 

“Shoot,” Jade said without opening his eyes, arms stretched above his head. 

“Do you even like me?” Davey blurted, hiding his face as soon as he said it. He cowered behind his skinny arms for a moment, fearing Jade’s nonchalant, bored voice saying, _you’re hot, but you’re a bad rider and No, I don’t actually like you. That’s pretty much it. This was a one time thing. Good luck surviving while I break your fourteen year old heart or whatever._ But instead he made a weird, kind of surprised sound in his throat and said, “Dave. Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah,” Davey mumbled. 

“Are you dumb? I mean, I know you’re dumb but are you _actually_ dumb?” Jade sighed, turning to face Davey with this bright, post-orgasm grin on his face. “I’ve been wanting to do that to you since I first saw you in your stupid shoes and Sex Pistols shirt. I switched my lesson so I could teach your sorry ass to ride. I clearly like you.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, letting his hand wander across Davey’s chest. 

Davey felt stupid, cheeks positively burning as Jade said all this shit. Something about the plain, blunt way Jade talked made Davey’s insides writhe like a knot of snakes, coiling and uncoiling deep in his gut. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,”Jade said solemnly. 

“You wanted to...to what, kiss me? When we met?” Davey asked, remembering how compelled he had been when he first met Jade, consumed by a need to _know_ him, be close to him. It was probably this all along. 

“Well, yeah, kiss you,” Jade said, rolling over onto his stomach and pressing his lips to Davey’s pulse, his adam’s apple, his jawline, and back to his mouth, which he kissed open and licked wetly. “And everything else.” He added slyly with a pointed lick to the corner of his mouth. Davey shivered, holding onto Jade’s elbow like he might fall off or something if he didn’t. 

They kissed for awhile, Jade lifting up so he was straddling Davey, their hips locked and stomachs pressed together. Soon enough they were grinding against each other again, Davey dissolved to a mess of whimpers under Jade, who kept biting his mouth, determined to make it red and swollen. 

“Ugh, we gotta stop. They’re gonna come back soon,” Jade finally groaned, ceasing his kisses and instead burying his face in downy place behind Davey’s ear. “Good thing you came in like, ten seconds,” he joked, fishing around in the sheets and finding his shorts. Davey sighed, kissed to a breathless heaving ribcage and nothing else, eyes whited out with static. 

“I didn’t come _that_ fast. You’re an asshole.” 

“Not an asshole, just an honest guy,” Jade assured him. “Now get out of here before I say fuck it and blow you again.” 

Once Davey was fully dressed and had gathered more than a few goodbye kisses for the road, he left Jade’s cabin. The second he knew he was out of sight and earshot, he stopped, took a deep breath, and spazzed out, jumping up and down and fist pumping and making this kind of horrible hissing noise. Then he gathered himself, and walked the rest of the way home, heart soaring.


	13. Refusing to Canter is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Davey character in this story is so painfully awkward and embarrassing I cringe on his behalf while I edit the chapters.

Perhaps Davey was naive to assume that just because he’d had Jade’s dick in his mouth, Jade would start being nicer to him. Perhaps is was an unrealistic expectation that the next riding lesson Jade wouldn’t be so hard on him, and maybe he’d even be able to sneak in a kiss of two behind the barn before lunch. That maybe the next month of camp would be filled with meaningful, heavy glances and stolen moments, the occasional graze of a hand over a lower back.

Apparently Davey was an idiot, though, because he was sorely mistaken. The next day, as he sat atop Cherry, a solid looking Roan mare, the first thing Jade said to him was not _Good morning_ , or even Hey. It was devoid of winks or any weight whatsoever. Jade looked at him from where he was standing on the ground, twiddling a riding crop idly in his fingers, and declared in that bored tone, “The plan is to teach your class to canter today, but I don’t think you’re ready.” 

Davey stared at him. He had been feeling cute, before, in his sleeveless forest green Clash shirt, but how he felt too exposed, and quite definitely the opposite of cute. “Well...I can try...?” he said dumbly, not even sure what a canter entailed and if he was ready for it. 

“You’ll fall off,” Jade told him plainly. 

Davey shut his mouth with a snap, disappointment welling up in his chest. He wasn’t bummed that he didn’t get to canter (he didn’t give a shit); he was disappointed because   
Jade wasn’t treating him any differently. Sex was supposed to change things. 

“Alright,” He said in a resigned, pouty tone, kicking Cherry into a trot and attempting to get his posting right, the outer muscles of his calves burning. 

Davey spaced out for the next few laps, mind flatlining on his own fuming anger. Anger at himself, mostly, for having an expectation, but also angry at Jade. He’d sucked his dick. He’d _swallowed_. He’d even said he’d _liked_ Davey, liked him since the first day he saw him. As Davey posted the trot forcefully, rising and falling in rhythm with Cherry’s plodding trot, he thought of all the shit Jade said to him and wondered (not for the first time) if Jade had been lying. 

Jade’s cocky face with that sly smile kept on resurfacing in Davey’s brain, those stomach-turning lips forming around the words, _I’m a fantastic liar_. Davey entertained the notion that he’d been taken advantage of. He tightened his fists on the reins, squeezing Cherry to extend her trot. He was so absorbed in his slew of self-loathing fury that he almost didn’t notice Jade’s voice. 

“Davey, stop,” He yelled, and Davey was startled out of his posting, thumping back down onto the saddle and pulling her back into an awkward half-halt. 

“That was good, you kept her in a trot and posted with the right lead for like, four laps,” Jade didn’t sound impressed but he didn’t sound frustrated, which was how he usually sounded when Davey was on a horse, so this had to count for something. 

“I did?” Davey asked, trying hard but failing pitifully to not look at Jade’s mouth and its sly smirk quirking the corner of it up. In spite of himself, Davey’s stomach clenched like a fist, fruitlessly grabbing for something it could not reach. 

“Yeah. Maybe you can canter today...just promise me you’ll stop the second you feel like you’re gonna fly off?” 

“Whatever, okay,” Davey sniffed, feeling totally messed up and vaguely ill. Nervous for too many reasons. He wanted desperately to ask Jade what the fuck was going on, if last night had really happened, if he actually liked him or if Davey was just another Wal Mart employee, stuck on Jade’s lying eyes and slippery smile while he stuffed shit in his pockets, ripping him off. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, sticky with sweat and dirt from the reins. 

“Okay. When I tell you, you’re gonna pick up a walk,” Jade said and crossed his arms, standing with one of his hips cocked to the side. “then kick her with _only_ your inside leg. Keep kicking her and she’ll move into it. It’ll feel like a rocking chair, so just hold your stomach muscles firm and try and sit straight as possible,” Jade told him, reaching forward and adjusting Davey’s foot in the stirrup, muttering, “and _please_ keep your heels down...”

The touch electrified Davey in this way that made him hate himself, flesh prickling as he involuntarily imagined Jade’s eyes dark and heady right before he sucked Davey off, the impossible wet feeling of tongue to skin. He glanced wildly down to Jade, knowing full well his legs were too weak to do any real kicking right now. So be backed down, doing the pussiest thing he could think of. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” He said hoarsely, dropping his gaze to Cherry’s red-brown mane, its messy whorls over her withers. 

“What?! Davey, seriously. You’ll be fine,” Jade scoffed, keeping his hand firmly around Davey’s ankle and squeezing. His brows were knitted with disdain, and Davey was certain at that moment that whatever they’d just done the night prior hadn’t meant anything but an orgasm to Jade, and he was incredibly stupid to believe the lies of a champion liar. 

With a look of grave defeat on his face, Davey admitted, “No, I really can’t.” There was a note to wheezing panic to his voice, and he couldn’t make himself look Jade in the eye. “I didn’t even know I posted right all that time. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“You still did it,” Jade said, glancing over at his shoulder at the line of kids on horses preparing to try their first lap of cantering. Cherry stamped her foot, giving off the impression of impatience. “Come on. Don’t be a pussy,” he hissed at the end, quiet and under his breath so the other counselors wouldn’t hear him. 

Davey finally looked at him then, two pairs of eyes connecting with a flashing anger. Jade’s jaw was set tight, his hands balled into fists on his hips. Davey bit his lower lip and said with as much confidence as he could muster, “No. I’m done for today.” and with that, he unbuckled his chinstrap, gathered his reins in one hand, and swung his leg off, landing clumsily on Jade’s side. He was suddenly shorter than Jade again, Jade whose mouth had formed an incredulous ‘o’ or exasperation. 

“Are you seriously ditching the lesson?” He asked through his teeth. There was a slight glint of something else in his eyes, anger run through with a capillary of...fear? Uncertainty? Davey was too freaked out shaky to try and decipher it, so instead he pulled the reins over Cherry’s head and led her to the gate of the ring, leaving Jade standing there with alone with a crop, shaking his head.

Davey felt close to passing out. It was blistering outside, and on top of that his legs had become weak and jellified after that whole exchange. He led Cherry to the barn, dragging her along behind him as he stumbled to the shade of the breezeway, cheeks burning in shame all the while. He couldn’t sort through his feelings. 

He was less than thrilled when he found Hunter occupying the same breezeway, Palomino mare in the cross ties, a saddle in his arms. “Hey Davey,” he said, sounding slightly surprised. “I thought your lesson didn’t end until lunch.” 

“It’s not supposed to...” Davey grumbled, clumsily sliding the bridle off Cherry and replacing it with a green nylon halter. He struggled with the cross ties, not sure how they worked. “Can you help me with this shit?!” he exclaimed, dropping the bridle in frustration. 

Hunter stood on his tiptoes and peered at Davey over the horse’s back, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” 

“I felt sick it was so hot, so I had to stop,” Davey half-lied, stooping to pick up the bridle from the hay and manure scattered barn floor, where it was splayed like some animal with broken limbs. Hunter expertly attached the cross ties to the metal D-rings of the halter, smiling. 

“Oh. I got it. And these are tricky,” he rubbed Cherry’s nose, clearly trying to be nice to Davey. “You seem pissed off.” 

“”I’ve just had a shitty day,” Davey huffed, lifting the saddle flap to unfasten more buckles. 

“But its not even lunch time yet.” 

“Fuck you,” Davey snapped, yanking the saddle off of Cherry’s steaming back, clumsy under the weight of it. He still hadn’t mastered how heavy the saddles were. Hunter sighed, grabbing the saddle pad and shaking it off.

“I’m trying to help you dude. Be a little grateful. What’s your real problem?” He looked like he was about to say something else, possibly something along the lines of _Are you still trying to impress Jade?_ Davey sensed the potential of this statement, so he blurted something, _anything_ to keep Hunter from going there. 

“ My real problem is that I hooked up with a girl here last night and now I think she hates me,” was what he said, fast and fierce and so intently his eyes and cheeks lit up with the force with which it exited his mouth. Davey regretted it the instant he said it, because it sounded ridiculous. Hunter looked more than a little taken back. 

“You hooked up with a girl?” He said slowly, folding the saddle pad into quarters. “Who? I bet I know her.” There was skepticism in his voice, and he poked his tongue at his braces. 

“I’m sure you know her. Which is why I’m not telling you who she is,” Davey lied effortlessly, thinking of course about shoplifting and how good he was at it, because he was expertly deceitful. Like Jade. He bit his tongue. 

“How on earth did you meet and get close enough to a girl to hook up with her if you’re always spending all your free time with Jade?” Hunter said bitingly. He and Davey stared at each other with narrowed gazes for a few pregnant sentences, until Cherry nickered irritatedly, stamping one of her front feet again. Davey sighed, eyes dropping as he bent down and found the curry comb in the tack box. 

“I just did,” he mumbled, cheeks hot. Hunter didn’t say anything else about Jade, much to Davey’s relief. 

“So, why do you think she hates you?” Hunter asked gently, selecting another brush for Cherry’s side. He was short enough he disappeared behind her, voice muffled. 

“She’s not very nice to me, and she just acts like she doesn’t care. Plus...” Davey scrubbed Princess with immature force, pushing his full weight into her solid body. It felt nice, like all her bulk was supporting him and he was small and insignificant to such a huge animal. “...I think she just wanted to hook up. Not to be my girlfriend or whatever.” He gritted his teeth, glad Hunter couldn’t see him on the other side of the horse. 

“And you...want her to be?” 

“Well yeah. I think I’m in love with her,” Davey blurted clumsily. 

Hunter moved then, scooting around Cherry until he could look Davey straight in the eye. “I think the heat seriously got to you, dude.” His thin, nearly translucent white-blonde eyebrows were drawn together in critical sincerity. “You could not have possibly fallen in love with someone that fast. Plus, you’re fourteen.” 

“Well, you’re twelve,” Davey snapped dumbly, crossing his arms. 

“No I’m not, and even if I was I’m not telling you I’m _in love_ with someone. You can’t possibly even know what love _is_.” Hunter, ever practical, unhooked Cherry’s halter form the cross ties and handed Jade a lead rope. “Take her back.” 

“Dude! I don’t need you ordering me around, too. And what do you know about falling in love? You’re just a kid. You have no idea how in love I am,” Davey announced, taking himself and his feelings very seriously on one hand, and vaguely aware he was being melodramatic on the other. 

He stood up straight, puffing out his chest. “Romeo and Juliet fell in love in like, two days,” he tried to remember how many days it was, thinking it crafty that he was relying on old, trusty Shakespeare to support his case. Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re crazy. And stupid. And you’re trying to sound smart, but you don’t. Plus, Romeo and Juliet _died._ ” 

Davey glared at him, kind of irritated he’d bring the whole double suicide into this. In the very back of his mind, somewhere stuffed behind his half-broken heart, Davey _was_ partially sure that everything coming out of his mouth was bordering on melodrama. It had to be the heat. Everything he was seconds away from spewing was horrific. Things like: _But I’ve never felt this way before!_ and _if this isn’t love, what is?_ It was awful. He took a deep breath. 

“Okay, maybe I’m getting a little too crazy.” 

“A little,” Hunter smiled, shaking his head. “Here, I gotta walk my horse back, too. I’ll go with you.” 

Then they walked side by side down the breezeway, leading their horses behind them. The sound of hooves echoing hollowly on dirty cement was the only sound before Hunter offered, “You know, if you’re so concerned, maybe you should just talk to this girl whose name you won’t tell me. Explain to her what you want. You’re acting _like_ a girl right now. ” 

Davey nodded, biting his tongue and thinking how all of that acting like a boy or a girl business was shot to hell because they were both guys, and there were no rules laid down for them to follow. Still, he thanked Hunter, knowing full well he _should_ talk to Jade: suck up his fear and find out if he was as good a liar as he bragged.


	14. Talking About Your Feelings is not Punk Rock (except it is guys, sheesh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly babies being silly and babyish.

Davey didn’t see Jade at lunch. He rethought the whole Romeo and Juliet thing, because he really _was_ a complete wreck: he had no appetite and couldn't eat, so instead he sat next to Hunter drinking orange juice in tiny, pinched sips, and pushing his taco-salad around his plate miserably. Every time the door (which he made sure to sit in front of, just in case) opened, his stomach plummeted, heart leaping into his throat and throbbing sickly. Jade never came, though, and if he was already inside the mess hall, Davey couldn’t see him. 

In fact, he didn’t run into Jade until _after_ campfire, which had never happened before. The sun had already waned and the earth cooled off, leaving it crisp and fragrant in that evening-in-the-mountains way that Davey would have thought was pretty if he sentimental or some bullshit. Sentimental, or not so wrapped up in the fact he was completely and totally occupied with freaking out over not seeing Jade all day that he had time to notice things like nice smells or pine trees. It was like the guy had simply disappeared the day Davey needed to talk to him most, evaporating nonchalantly as always, slipping through the cracks and leaving Davey a Shakespearian mess. 

Davey was heading back from campfire with his cabin mates, when Jade sprung up unexpectedly, one of his calloused fingers tapping him irritatedly on the shoulder. “Hey. Davey,” he snapped, sending Davey into a whirling bout of sickness. His skin crawled, head spinning as he began to sweat. 

“What?” he said weakly, too fast. Jade took a few extended strides to catch up to him, then walked right next to him with his head bent. 

“I need to talk to you. About skipping today’s lesson.” He sounded very authoritative, like a teacher instead of a friend. Even less like a boyfriend. 

“But I didn’t _skip_ , I just--”

“No buts. C’mere,” And then he grabbed Davey’s shoulder, steering him away from the pack with his fingers biting and harsh. Davey glanced helplessly to Hunter, eyes glinting in the decreasing dusk light. 

“I’ll tell the cabin leaders you’re getting in trouble,” Hunter said cheerily, smiling a very metallic smile at Davey, who grimaced, cheeks heating up. Once they were a little ways behind everyone, Jade let go of his fierce grip on Davey’s shoulder. 

“You’re not allowed to do that,” was the first thing Jade said. His glance was unwavering. “Leave in the middle, I mean.” 

“I’m sorry,” Davey mumbled, not knowing what else there was to say. What was he supposed to do aside from apologize? Explain himself? Grovel? He stared at the tan-lines on his wrists in favor of all other options, noticing how much they’d faded since he’d been riding. 

“You should be. You hopping off and walking through the ring during a group lesson was irresponsible and dangerous, not to mention a total liability,” Jade’s voice was stern but it was also something else...thick. Like he was disguising a secret under bravado, like he was overcompensating for a hidden insecurity. Davey wondered if he was projecting. 

The crowd of campers was far ahead of them but Jade didn’t speed up, instead he actually stopped, kicking at the trail while he stood stationary. Then he sat down on a stump half-hidden by the brush to their left, its twisted grey wood creating a sort of crumbling throne. Davey felt like it was impolite to not sit down too, so he dropped to the ground, crossing his legs. He kept his distance, though, worried Jade might hear his heart beating. 

They stared at each other for a few excruciatingly long seconds, until Jade finally said, “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“Uh...I’m sorry? I mean, wouldn’t it have been equally dangerous for me to stay on the horse when I was dizzy and just...couldn’t do it?” Davey said carefully, floundering with this weird formal tone Jade was using to reprimand him with. 

“Couldn’t do it! That’s the other thing,” Jade exclaimed, voice wavering for the first time since he’d separated Davey from the pack. “When you were saying all that shit in the ring about not being able to do it...were you just talking about cantering, or did you mean something else?” Jade sounded professional, but Davey thought that he could see through the polished, suave exterior and through to the boy underneath.

And that boy... he was just seventeen. He might have been scared too, and there was the slightest, slightest tremor to his voice. Davey latched onto it, sucking at the thin seam of vulnerability he could peer at through the wall. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice hoarse. 

Jade swallowed, then paused, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Were you talking about what happened last night, or riding?” 

Davey faltered, his throat opening and closing around the unstable words he wanted to say, which was a flood something like: _It did happen, right, I’m not crazy? And you wanted to? And this is okay? And you don’t hate me?_ He was aware that such an onslaught was unacceptably uncool, however, so he bit back his words. “I don’t know,” he finally mumbled, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. Jade shuffled , reminding Davey of a bird rustling its feathers. 

“You don’t know,” he sighed, turning his head and looking to his side directionlessly, as if he were doing it just to avert his eyes from Davey’s. He said “Are you freaked out?” 

Davey was about to open his mouth and say _yes, but not for the reasons you think_. Which was true. He wasn’t freaked out because Jade was a guy, or because they’d had some form of sex, or because Jade was older than him. He was freaked out because he had _no_ semblance of control, and he was falling hard, Romeo and Juliet style, while Jade acted like they’d taken a walk in the park together last night, not sucked each other’s dicks. It was entirely distressing, and that made it hard to express. Before Davey could attempt to express it, though, Jade cut him off. 

“Look kid, I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, a note of heavy regret to his words. “I shouldn’t have forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do...fool around with me, or canter, or anything. I just really..” And Jade stopped, looking over his shoulder and swallowing a lot. Davey held his breath, watching, waiting, hoping. 

“Really what?” Davey urged, and Jade finally looked at him, eyes flashing in frustration. Anger. Something else. In that instant he appeared as he was: a little boy, soft-cheeked and bright eyed and scared. Davey’s heart spasmed at the way Jade was looking at him, and he could tell he wasn’t lying. 

Jade gestured frustratedly with his hands before he snapped and admitted “I really, really like you,okay?” Then his furious gaze dropped and he flushed a deeper shade of pink than Davey, for once. He shook his head fiercely then, burying it in his hands. “Augh,” he said wordlessly, like he hated that they were having this conversation. 

Davey scooted forward, ankles scraping against the rocky dirt of the trail. He wanted to reach out and cup Jade’s face in his palms; he wanted to climb back into his lap and kiss the fearful curl of his lips away into softness. However, he couldn’t make himself move, not out in the open like this, without the safety of Jade’s cabin, Jade’s commending hand telling him how to ride. 

“God, will you say something? You’re driving me crazy.” Jade begged, and Davey finally broke, stumbling out of his silence and paralysis. 

“I freaked out this morning because I thought you lied to me yesterday,” He blurted. Jade drew his brows together, biting his lip quizzically. 

“Lied? About what?” 

“Liking me. Because you were an asshole, same way you always are. And I thought it might have been one of your shoplifting tricks, or....or...” Davey trailed off, surprised by the sudden surge of blind anger that was building in his chest. He’d been nothing but vulnerable, broken down, and exposed in front of Jade since they’d met, and _now_ he was seeing through the exterior, _now_ he was touching the inside. And that wasn’t fair. 

“You know,” Davey snapped before Jade could say anything. “You’re driving _me_ crazy.” He pointed at Jade, who looked bewildered, already big eyes doubling in size. 

“What?!” 

“You act like you’re so punk, and so tough, and so much better than me but you’re _just_ as scared as I am. You _are_ a liar, but not just because you’re a good shoplifter...you lie to yourself,” Davey was panting, heart as fast as a nervous rabbit in his chest. “I just want you to be nice to me, prove to me that you like me,” he finished lamely. 

Jade stared at him, cowering slightly on his stump-throne. He glanced down at his sneakers, scoffing a tiny, humorless laugh at them and their scuffed toes. “Wow. I got to hand it you, I didn’t expect that.” He mumbled. At the raw sound of his voice, Davey’s anger faded, replaced with an aching exhaustion. 

“I’m right, aren’t I? ” He whispered, leaning in towards Jade’s knees. Jade shook his head, like he couldn’t believe Davey would dare say all this shit, but at the same time knew he was dead on. 

He swallowed thickly, finally admitting. “You know, I pegged you for a little bitch, but you’re tougher than I thought.” And then he looked hard at Davey for a few meaningful seconds before he reached for his chin, bringing his mouth close enough to kiss firmly. It was brief, just a mutual, damp press of lips. Just enough to prove to both of them the other wanted it, wasn’t freaking out. Davey swayed as they parted, dizzy and starry-eyed. 

“Maybe I always knew you were a _little_ tough,” Jade whispered when their faces were still close, voice restored to its usual easy confidence. “I mean, I wouldn’t have liked you so much if you weren’t.”

“So you _do_ like me?,” Davey asked a final time as he stood, offering a hand for Jade to haul himself up with.

“Dude, how many times do I have to say it?!” Jade looked agonized, like it caused him physical pain to admit that this was more than just some pervy conquest for him. 

“How do I know for sure you’re not lying?”

Jade shrugged, keeping Davey’s hand in his, fingers entwined, as they walked back to the cabins together. “You don’t. You just have to trust me.” 

And Davey sighed, realizing that at this point, that unstable trust would have to be enough.


	15. Fearing Death is Not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrote this story, I actually worked as an instructor at a horse back riding camp for three years in a row. I didn't seduce any of my students, which makes me less of a creep than Jade in this little tale.

Davey was on top of a horse when he finally decided that he believed Jade. It was a few days after his failed cantering attempt, a particularly infernal afternoon when he was stuck riding this fat pony named Mr. Apples. Davey was thinking how he felt almost as bad for the horse as he did for himself as he wiped sweat from his brow, grateful to have stopped in the corner of the ring where a lone pine tree was providing decent enough shade. 

The rest of the kids in his lesson were taking turns cantering a lap or two each around the ring, and Jade was leaning on the rail shouting orders, slouched and handsome despite the sunburn on the back of his neck that Davey was staring at and imagining pressing his lips to in order to feel the heat radiating from soft, scorched skin. 

“Dave?! Jesus dude are you deaf?”

“Huh?” Davey asked, eyes snapping up from Jade’s pink neck and fixing on his equally pink mouth, which was talking to him, apparently. 

“I asked you like, three times if you were ready to canter today. But you were too busy checking me out,” Jade drawled matter of factly. 

“Was not,” Davey said, blushing fiercely. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Jade smirked. “But really. I think you should canter today. You’re more than ready; It must be some kind of mental block now.” 

Davey averted his eyes. looking out over the forest on either side of them, scrubby trees making a jagged skyline against the vivid blue sky. He sighed, huffing skeptically. “I dunno...” The last couple lessons, Jade had been trying to gently bully Davey into cantering. These attempts were met with firm resistance, and for good reason. Davey figured that since the last three days had been punctuated by blissful hours of hanging out with Jade during free time (and listening to music, but mostly fooling around) he really shouldn't be risking his life at all. He was happy, but aware of the fragility of his happiness. After all, he still didn’t trust Jade, and often fell asleep worrying that he was terribly wrong about the whole thing, and was actually being played and taken advantage of. 

Therefore, it was probably in his best interest to not involve himself in risky endeavors, as to prolong his life and incidentally prolong his already threatened happiness. So, he told Jade this. “I don’t want to die.” 

“You won’t die, you can just stop him if you feel like you’re going to fall off. Plus, I don’t know where your fatalistic attitude is coming from...Apples is the safest horse here. He’s like a rocking chair. If you fall off, something is wrong with you.” 

“See, if I fall off, I’m just going to hate myself now that you said that...” 

“Grow some balls, Sid Vicious. This is the least punk thing I’ve ever suffered through, listening to you bitch,” Jade’s said, eyes twinkling. It was a low blow, and Davey kind of shuffled on the saddle, like a bluebird ruffling its feathers in affront. Jade _knew_ that insulting his punkness or lack therof was a completely unfair method of attack, because it would work. Davey would cave, and he would try to canter, and he would probably die, and it would all be Jade’s fault. 

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Davey explained, adjusting his sweaty hands on the sticky leather of Mr. Apple’s reins. He peered over the horses neck, eyes fixing on his tired-looking face with the white blaze. Apples was chewing thoughtfully on his bit, seemingly unfazed by the argument. He looked nice enough. Probably not lethal. 

“Then what, just lazy? Both aren’t admirable qualities, Davey. I wouldn’t exactly choose you for my anarchist revolution or anything,” Jade said slyly, poking at the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Davey imagined biting it, and his stomach plummeted, and his hands began to sweat more than they already were sweating. 

Before he knew it, Davey sputtered “Fine, fine you asshole. I’ll do it.” 

Jade beamed. “That’s the spirit. Okay, once this kid’s done, you move Apples up to the curve of the ring. You’re going to start out walking, then kick him with your inside leg. Don’t post though, try and sit tight, and he’ll just--” Jade continued rambling on nonsensical horsey-instructions that kind of went over Davey’s head, but he got the gist of it. 

He was nervous, but what the fuck. Being punk apparently didn’t really have room for nerves of fear of death or anything, so he’d have to suck it up. He tightened his reins, tentatively nudging Apples into a plodding walk. 

“Extend his walk, you’re going to need momentum...” Jade shouted from behind him, and Davey obeyed, gritting his teeth and kicking repetitively with his inside leg. From what it felt like, Apples was just trotting really fast, and it felt like Davey was sitting on a jackhammer: uncomfortable, frenetic, ball-bashing, up and down motion. He could feel his teeth chattering from the force of it. 

He was about two seconds from pulling back on the reins and calling it quits before he destroyed any possibility of ever having children in the future when miraculously, the motion changed. Quite suddenly, the jack hammer became a rocking chair, just like Jade said it would, and he was cantering. Moving somehow faster, but _smoother_. It felt...nice. Kind of fun. He relaxed into the motion, liking the feel of wind on his hot, flushed face. 

“That’s it! Don’t you feel lame?! That’s cantering! That’s what you were afraid of, you idiot,” Jade screamed from the rail, palms cupped around his mouth. “Now keep your leg on him, or he’ll stop.” 

Davey cantered a total of four laps before his legs started to shake, and he couldn’t keep the pressure applied any longer. Pulling Apples back into an awkward trot-hop-stop thing, Davey collapsed onto his neck, panting and feeling weirdly proud and euphoric in a kind of embarrassing way. At peace, perhaps. He snapped back up into a sitting position on the saddle when Jade approached, placing a gentle hand on his calf from the ground. 

“Good job. You didn’t even let your back flop, you were perfect,” he said, voice surprisingly warm and genuine, which was nice coming from someone who couldn’t even muster tone greater than that of complete indifference most times he spoke. 

Davey beamed. “I didn’t die.” 

“Not even close,” Jade’s gaze was dark, but intensified when he added in a low voice, “You should trust me more.” 

Davey stared back, unable to keep the childlike, explosive grin off his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” And at that moment, he resolved to stop being stupid and second guessing himself and thinking about this inevitable failure, or his inevitable death all the time, and instead just enjoy the rest of camp without worrying about how he might get hurt. After all, it wasn’t particularly punk to fear _anything,_ so he might as well get over himself and join Jade’s anarchist revolution. 

His hard work in the ring paid off, too, seeing as Jade cornered him in the bathroom in the middle of lunch, and pressed him up against the stall door to kiss. Davey squirmed, self-conscious about his sweatiness and dirtiness and general unattractiveness, which Jade seemed to either not notice or not care about. “I’m all gross, what are you doing?” Davey protested weakly, making no real effort to stop Jade, who released his mouth in favor of his neck, licking salt from the hollow under his voicebox. 

“Don’t care,” Jade mumbled in between rough kisses. “You’re too fucking hot. All I think about it how I can get you alone and do this to you,” he hissed. 

“Ungh,” Davey moaned wordlessly, squirming and losing awareness of the fact he was in a nasty-ass camp _bathroom_ , with its napkin-littered floor and stupid so-and-so-was-here graffiti, of all the romantic places. It all seemed superfluous when Jade’s teeth were at his pulse, his tongue wet and insistent between his lips. 

“I want you so bad,” Jade’s hand brushed clumsily across the button and zipper of Davey’s jodhpurs, and they both lurched. “I don’t know what you do to me.” At this point Jade pulled back to look critically at Davey, eyes all-pupil, cheeks a vivid red, and a hand on either side of Davey’s face. “I don’t even fucking know.” 

Davey shuddered, hard in his breeches and knees quaking. Every word Jade said was like a fist clutching and twisting in his intestines, and his breathing was coming out raggedly, like he kept forgetting to exhale. “I--fuck--” was the only coherent thing he managed to stutter out before Jade started kissing him again, harsh and with no room for air. 

They fumbled along the wall of the bathroom for a few, frantic minutes before Jade finally tore himself away from Davey panting, gaze dark. “I have to go back,” he said quietly, thumb pressing gently to the pout of Davey’s lower lip. “Plus, if I get caught, I’m dead.” 

“Free time though? Meet by the lakefront?” Davey whispered, his voice so high and keening it doesn’t even sound like his own. 

“You bet kid. See you in an hour,” and then pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of Davey’s mouth and made himself walk out the door, still looking somewhat messy and taken apart. Standing against the wall, heart pounding and lips stinging wonderfully, Davey fought to keep himself standing in favor of sinking to the floor, shit-eating grin on his face. 

Trusting Jade was getting easier and easier, because no matter how much he lied, he couldn’t fake _want_ , and he clearly, clearly wanted Davey. Davey didn’ t need Jade’s word anymore. He could feel them.


	16. Davey is not Punk Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! But there are two one shots about these characters, never fear:) Davey continues to be stupid and Jade continues to be a little shit.

If you told Davey two months ago that at the end of Horse Camp, he wouldn’t be ready to go home, he would not have believed you. 

But here he was, standing with his cabin mates on a great sprawling field, sweating faintly from Capture the Flag, and lamenting the end. Davey didn’t really care for Capture the Flag, or any field games for that matter, but seeing as cabin 4A was cabin 9B’s Capture the Flag rival, Davey was sort of eager to engage in anything that would result in getting tackled by Jade.

He hopped over the center divider drawn in chalk across the field, sidestepping nervously towards the goal. He was quick enough he didn’t look suspicious, but lazy enough he knew Jade would see, and tag him. Which he did, plowing Davey down to the itchy grass, wrestling his arms above his head, and panting. They were both sweaty, sticking together in places. Davey fought a good fight...after all, the last two weeks he’d really gotten over the learning curve of riding and had built considerable strength.

Still, Jade was stronger, grunting with the force it took to hold Davey flush to the earth. He grinned triumphantly, placing a swift kiss to Davey’s damp, hot neck before he got off. “Go to jail, you slow ass runner,” he said, pointing to a line of kids from Davey’s team all sulking and perspiring in the heat. Davey smiled stupidly, stumbling up and off towards jail, spots of color on his cheeks. 

As he stood in line waiting to be freed, he thought for the millionth time _this is the last day_. Every time the thought crossed his mind, he felt a tiny balloon of panic swell in his chest. After camp...what if he never saw Jade again? What if they never talked, and just went about their lives, writing this off as some summer romance? He didn’t want to think about it, and because he didn’t, he and Jade hadn’t _talked_ about what was gonna happen after camp. The topic had been carefully avoided. 

Until now, of course, when it was inevitable. Because come ten am, his mom would show up in the mini van, and they’d drive back home. Away from camp, and away from Jade. The mere thought made Davey sick to his stomach, so he forced it out of his head, turning his eyes back to the game. Just in time, too, because Jade was tearing across the field with the gauzy yellow flag in hand, sinewy, athletic arms pumping. Davey’s eyes watered while he squinted against the sun, fixed on Jade winning the game, right before he disappeared into a many-person hug. Davey’s teammates sighed in defeat around him, slapping his back in camaraderie like he gave a fuck. 

Of course, once Jade broke free of his band of admirers and team members, Davey was the first person whose shoulder he slugged, smiling a bright, crooked smile as he said, “Yo loser. I’ll see you at the dance tonight.” and then he winked. 

Davey winced, having forgotten about the dance. It was a camp tradition, apparently. Everyone met at the Capture the Flag field after dinner instead of going to campfire, and a DJ played a bunch of shitty songs: The YMCA, The Macarena, other stupid group dance numbers. Davey had not been looking forward to the thing at all, seeing as it dwindled the valuable time he got to spend alone with Jade, sneaking off to his cabin or kissing in an empty barn stall, hiding behind the canoe shed to hold hands. The whole thing was exciting, daring. Maybe for all the boyfriends/girlfriend couples who’d managed to form during camp, a dance was exciting and daring, but the whole thing pretty much sucked for Davey. 

Jade, however, seemed excited. He told Davey that some kids had gotten busted at the dance last year for smoking cigarettes in the forest, and Jade was the lucky one who disciplined them. Perhaps it was the fond memory, or perhaps is was Jade’s favorite campfire-pass time of butchering songs as loudly as possible he would get to enact, but he told Davey he should look forward to it. He also assured him that they _would_ be able to get away, slip into the surrounding woods for at least a second to say goodbye properly. 

Davey did not understand how any of that, especially the last part, could possibly be fun. 

Still, after dinner, he went. 

The field was decorated lamely, to say the least. The scraggly trees which bordered it were strung with colorful if not dilapidated party streamers, and bunches of pastel balloons crowded the rickety DJ table. Davey wrinkled his nose, mouth falling open. “Middle school,” he mumbled to Hunter, who was walking with him. “This reminds me of middle school. Not that you’d know, being all of ten years old...” 

Hunter elbowed him. “Fuck you dude. Hey, whatever happened to that girl you were in love with?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “You still in love with her?” 

Davey scoffed, tossing his head. “Oh. That. I got over that,” he improvised, shooting Hunter a sheepish, sidelong smile. 

“Good. Because it was dumb.” 

At that moment, Davey spotted cabin 4A traversing over the grassy knoll that sloped into the field. Jade was fronting the group, holding a walking stick he’d picked up somewhere, stretched out Teen Idles tank top hanging half-off one shoulder. Davey’s stomach dropped, as it still did every time he saw Jade. He shrugged and flat out lied to Hunter, “Yeah, totally dumb.” 

The dancing area was predominantly occupied by the littlest kids (who were just running around screaming) and the counselors (who were trying to keep them in line.) All the kids close to Davey’s age were sulking around the perimeter of the field, arms crossed over their chests testily while the girls whispered in clusters, cheap makeup glittering on their cheeks. Davey was completely uninterested, instead desperately trying to get Jade alone without it seeming weird. 

As the light waned, more kids started dancing. Hunter eventually ditched Davey to dance with this kind of pretty brunette girl a year or two younger than him, so Davey stood there shuffling his feet and feeling very alone, especially when a slow song came on and everyone paired off. He watched Jade patrol the dance floor, using a little flashlight to scare kids apart when they got too close. 

He didn’t even realize he was standing next to this tall, gangly redhead from his lesson until she poked him, cracking her bubblegum and asking, “You want to dance?” 

He looked at her dumbly, sputtering a little. “...Uh...uh...”

“I don’t like you like _that_ or anything. I just feel awkward standing here and I like this song, so, do you want to dance?” she repeated. Her voice was unemphatic, and her hair was kind of oily, but she was the best rider in his lesson so Davey decided she was cool enough. 

“Yeah, okay sure,” he mumbled, and she grabbed his elbow, steering him to the dance floor. They stood facing each other for a moment until she put her hands tentatively on his shoulders, positioning herself professionally before him. He tentatively placed his hands on her waist, thinking how weird this was, how stilted and uncomfortable. He felt like they were marshmallows with toothpicks stuck in them for limbs, stiff and unbending. The girl, Abigail, he thought her name might be, grinned toothily at him, bringing his awkward body a little closer. 

“I don’t bite.” 

“Oh,” Davey said through his teeth, 

“No seriously, loosen up. Have you ever danced before?” She asked. 

“Uh, not really...” he trailed off, hyper aware of where Jade might be weaving in and out of all these couples, casting them in the accusatory flashlight glow and telling them to ‘leave room for Jesus.’ 

“Yeah, you don’t look like the dancing type,” Abigail told him, guiding him side to side so they kind of swayed. “Are you goth or something?” 

“What? Goth?!” Davey asked, raising one thick eyebrow, which was nearly invisible now that his hair was even more overgrown, tumbling down onto his forehead and getting in his eyes every second. His tawny brown roots were growing in under the black, too, creating an even more unsavory hair disaster. 

“Yeah, goth, emo, whatever,” she shrugged. “You wear a lot of black.” 

He snorted. “I’m not goth. I just don’t like color that much.” He thought about telling her he was punk, or at the very least _liked_ punk, but something about that seemed fake and blasphemous, especially now that Jade showed him his prior concept of punk was completely off kilter. “I like music though,” was what he decided on, thinking it was noncommittal enough. 

She nodded. “I see. Very interesting.” 

Davey might have been a little too infatuated, because he could smell Jade near to them, smell his deodorant and shampoo and laundry detergent. He could smell the faint, indescribable and unplaced scent underneath all of that was Jade’s person scent. In a stroke of sudden, inspired genius, Davey grabbed Abigail and pulled her close, so their bodies were flush. She omitted a tiny, surprised _oomph_ before Jade appeared in front of them, arms crossed and brows gathered into a stern look.r32;  
He shined his flashlight at them. “What do we have here? Abigail, is this handsy little asshole trying to feel you up?” His eyes glinted with a hidden amusement, and Abigail clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked by Jade’s language. 

“Jade! You’re a counselor, you can’t say stuff like that,” she said, sounding scandalized. Jade winked at her, brow furrowing under the camo-print bandanna tied around around his forehead, beneath the wing of blonde hair. 

“Watch me. Tonight’s the last night, if you don’t tell, I won’t. Davey, you sicko, come with me. I’ll teach how to keep your hands to yourself and leave room for Jesus,” his voice got low at the end, and only Davey noticed, grinning to himself as he tripped after Jade, looking over his shoulder and waving to Abigail apologetically, shouting a quick, “I’m sorry!” 

Jade dragged him by his wrist behind the DJ’s table, where the trees began to get denser. He followed him through the brush, shoes crunching over pine needles until Jade stopped in the dark, pausing to fish a lighter out of the pocket of his cargo pants. He struck it, face suddenly illuminated and gaunt in the flickering yellow light. 

“Why do you have a lighter?’ Davey asked, perplexed. Without realizing it, his hands had alighted on Jade’s waist, thumbs pushing up and under his Teen Idles shirt. Jade smirked, letting the light go out so they were once again cloaked in darkness. 

“I confiscated it from these little dicks smoking in the barn earlier today. I swear, kids start acting crazy towards the end of camp,” Jade sighed. “What were _you_ doing with Abigail? Leading that girl on?” 

“I wasn’t leading her on, she said she didn’t like me,” Davey mumbled, heart and stomach suddenly sinking when Jade uttered the phrase _end of camp_. He dropped his eyes, glad it was dark enough Jade couldn’t see his face falling. 

“They always say that. They lie,” Jade sighed, drawing Davey a little closer to him. Their eyes were adjusting to the dark, and Davey could see all the details of Jade’s face, his wide eyes under the folded edge of his bandana, his crooked teeth. 

“Just like you?” Davey whispered. And then Jade kissed him, cupping his face in both hands and aligning his thumbs with Davey’s jawline. Davey kissed back hard, letting his face be tilted exactly how Jade wanted him. Then he forced himself to stop, pushing away from the solidity of Jade’s chest and breathing, “They might see us.” 

“And what, _fire_ me? The last day of camp? No way,” Jade hooked his thumb inside the corner of Davey’s mouth, invading the slick heat and making Davey stumble. He was about to start kissing him again when Davey froze, hands tightening on Jade’s waist.

“Jade...what are we going to do...after camp?” The worry must have been evident in his voice because Jade stopped the way he was scraping Davey’s back gently with his nails, tilting backwards and looking at him hard. 

“What do you mean?” Jade asked, chewing his lower lip. 

“Just...is this the last time we’re gonna kiss? Are we gonna see each other again?” He blurted it with a horrible intensity, so much drama that Jade actually snorted at him. 

“ I know you’re dumb, but are you _actually_ dumb? Is there something wrong with you?” He threaded his hands through the overgrown thatch of hair at the back of Davey’s head, tugging a little. Davey was speechless and disgruntled, withering under Jade’s condescending glare. 

“Davey. You live like, ten minutes away from me. I have a car,” Jade explained, and Davey remembered with a stark, stomach-wrenching lurch of hope that Jade lived in Altadena, and Davey lived in Pasadena. They could practically _walk_ to each other’s neighborhoods. 

“I forgot,” Davey mumbled, unable to stop smiling in relief. His heart was beating fast, trapped between the pressure of their two chests pressed together. 

“Hey. What are you doing...say...next Saturday?” Jade asked, kissing the corner of Davey’s mouth, his chin, his eyebrow. Davey shivered, clenching his fists in Jade’s shirt front. 

“Probably nothing,” He admitted. 

“And your door locks?” 

“Uh...yeah? Why do-”

“Well,” Jade announced, sliding his hand down Davey’s chest and to his waistband, sneaking his first and second fingers beneath the elastic. “Next Saturday, I’m driving to your place. You’re mom’s a horse trainer, right? So I’ll talk horses with her and she’ll love me. And then she’ll go get groceries or some shit, and we’ll... _lock your door_...” he hissed low in Davey’s ear, pushing his hand further into Davey’s shorts, forcing his knees close to buckling. “And I’ll start by jacking you off. Before I suck you off. After I watch you suck me off.”

Davey shut his eyes, suddenly encased in unbearable heat. 

“How does that sound?” Jade whispered. 

“It sounds...uh, perfect,” Davey mumbled into Jade’s mouth as is closed on his, tonguing lips apart and sweeping his teeth. The sounds of kids cheering the the final blasting of YMCA on the field scared them apart, signaling the end of the dance. 

“So...” Davey said, shuffling his feet, cheeks hot. 

“So. You text me your address the second you get to your phone, and I’ll see you next Saturday. In...the incredibly punk rock suburb of Pasadena, California,” Jade grinned. “Maybe I’ll even keep teaching you to ride, too...you’re not half as bad as I always tell you you are...” he added to the end, raising one eyebrow. “But you really _aren’t_ punk. Not at all. I wasn’t lying to you about _that_.” Jade said honestly, cocking his head. 

Davey leaned forward impulsively, biting Jade’s lower lip. “You. Are an asshole.” was all he mumbled out before Jade kissed him, grabbing his hips and grinding into them. They made out heatedly for a moment, before Jade pushed Davey off, raking a hand through his own hair and trying to look put together. The final chords of the song were ringing across the field, little kids shrieking and counselors giving their last, half-hearted “alright, time to head back to the cabin, single file lines, please...” 

“I gotta be out there,” Jade breathed. “See you next Saturday, Sid Vicious,” he said before he pushed out of the forest, brush snagging his shorts as he left. 

And Davey stood still for a few careful seconds, waiting until he knew Jade was out of earshot, before he allowed himself to spazz out, jumping up and down and fist pumping and making this kind of horrible hissing noise, heart soaring.


End file.
